#n given that he dies the same way in blasters it's probably the same

[oh-meow-swirls]

imagine being nate/katie n just having to deal with world-ending schemes or whatever four summers in a row. possibly just over the span of like three summers-

[jangofctts]

Bloodsport (din djarin x fem!reader) (part one) 

rated: 18+

word count: 5.4k

warnings: smut, knife kink (no blood is drawn and consent is clearly given), blowjobs, vaginal fingering, din is sorta a virg duDE, alcohol, mentions of violence (reader punches someone in the face kwejrkejh), some gambling (sabaac) also please let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: oOf this is the first fic in sO LONG IM SO SORRY YALL KEHJRKEJH BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY

It’s been a couple months since Din’s stepped foot on the sandy nightmare of a planet. Went through hell and back and kriff—it feels like a lifetime ago. But the landscape before him hasn’t changed an inch, Mos Eisley same as always—busy with all sorts of scum and villainy he turns a blind eye to. 

Din hopes it’s not the only thing that’s stayed the same—selfish as it is. Someone as volatile as you is bound to catalyze and shift, so is the nature of life. A lot can happen in a month or two and it’s ridiculous to think that you would ever push your life to the side and wait for him to return.    

Turns out, you are here, still working as the resident mechanic. Though in the same elated breath of hearing that tidbit of news, it’s equally dissatisfying when he somehow misses you completely. You’re off planet, looking for power converters and electrical wiring—back in few days Peli promises. Maybe by the time his wild goose chase is over, back from the butt fuck middle of nowhere, he’ll get to see you— 

Nothing goes as planned—naturally. All Din finds is a man playing dress up, an oversized lizard, planetary drama he’s forced to resolve and—to top it all off—an attempted stickup. Maker—he’s not even worried about anything save for the kid and your speeder. The very same one now scattered over the sand in miserable heaps.           

At least some of it is salvageable…

By the time Din reaches the outskirts of Mos Eisley, the binary suns are smearing across the horizon like molten puddles of magma. Deep aches amass in his shoulders and back from the weight of the speeder parts, his gear, and the second pair of armor. Maker—it feels like his arms are going to be ripped off.

The baby babbles something incomprehensible. 

“Almost there, kid,” Din responds, sparing a quick glance down the baby. “How does soup sound?”

Instead of trudging back to the hangar, Din wanders to the cantina. Call it a hunch or just you and your aunt’s tendency to lurk around the premises, he’s certain he’s going to find one of you here. 

Din is right.

The moment he steps inside, he spots your mess of hair, the low solar lights illuminating the rich colors with a soft orange. The baby coos and blinks up at Din, his tiny clawed finger gesturing in your direction. 

Din hums. “Good job—you found her.” 

The child’s little teeth peek out, pleased with his discovery. Din steps into the doorway, down the carven stairs and over to your table. A older man—a ship rigger by the looks of his uniform—sits across from you, a game of Sabaac spread across the table between you. You’re winning. 

“Hello, Shiny.” You greet, dipping your chin in his direction. “Your armor is looking a tad ripe.” 

It’s true. The layer of slime coating his armor had baked and crusted under the suns—probably doesn’t smell too good either… 

“I killed a Krayt dragon.” Din states it with a twinge of smug satisfaction despite knowing how little something like that would mean to you. He could conquer three dozen planets and shower you in all the precious metals in the world and you’d still turn your nose up at everything.  

“And I curb stomped a centipede today—you aren’t special.” Your eyes never leave the set of worn cards you hold between your fingers, acutely ignoring him like you would an overly enthusiastic puppy. You inhale and scrape your right thumbnail along the edge of the hexagonal cardstock—it’s a subtle tell, one Din would more than likely miss if he were the unlucky bastard brave enough to sit at the other end of the table.  

“You playin’ or what?” Your opponent gripes. He scratches his unkempt salt and pepper stubble and quirks a furry brow. 

You lift your chin in scorned defiance and lay your hand down—full Sabaac. The man hisses through his crooked, clenched teeth and utters a curse as he shoves his winnings towards your end of the table.  

“Peli promised me information.” Din pushes, hearing the kid coo in curiosity as you begin shuffling the cards with practiced flare. “About others like me.”

“Do I look like my aunt to you?” You grumble. It’s the first time your eyes leave the perimeter of the game to look at him. They settle on the kid first with a guarded version of compassion, then leap to the faded green armor clipped to the heavy luggage, and then his visor. Your lip twitches at the green slime still coating the beskar. “I’m assuming my speeder didn’t make it.”

“A technical difficulty.”

You roll your eyes and snort, dealing out the cards then setting the stack in the middle. “Right…”

The background ambiance of the bar and the quiet rasp of cards fill the brief lull in conversation. Any other rational person would take the blaring hint to leave, but Din is just as stubborn as you are. 

“I don’t remember where the hangar is,” Din lies, cocking his head to the side in mock innocence, “could you show me?” 

The tip of your tongue peaks out of the corner of your mouth. The unconscious tic is not one of irritation—not yet. Though before you’re able to respond, your opponent beats you to it. 

“Yeah—I know where it is. It’s between fuck off and take a hike.”  

Din turns his head, the cool, even tone of his words sharper than shrapnel as he address the man. “I was speaking to her.”        

This is funny to you Din realizes—one of the tiny mysteries of your entirety clicking into the place of the puzzle map he’s conjured for you. 

“Well, I don’t have the time of day for cowards who wear shiny buckets over their head.” The man gripes into his drink, dark eyes flicking over to Din as he sizes him up. “What’s a Mandalorian doing out here anyway? Thought your planet exploded or something.”

The man’s ignorance irks him—sure. How could it not? But with years of harsh words and jabs at the foundation of Din’s very being, he’s learned to adapt. It’ll always sting no matter how many layers of beskar he wears but you on the other hand…

Your eyes spark, molten and bright like the last solar flare on the surface of a decaying star. Each encounter Din’s had with you, he’s bared witness to the deep well of your anger that fuels your being like the auto-mechanical heart of a droid. He’s felt the bite of your rage firsthand, but this anger—this is the tragedy of the delicate mayfly wings trapped between the black teeth of misfortune—the story of the boy who rammed a spear into the flank of an ancient beast that bites before it barks and gnashes its yellowed teeth in warning.

Din’s hand inches towards his blaster. He’s not willing to weigh the safety of the kid against your rash decisions, despite it being on his behalf.   

Though, just as quick as it appears, it recedes like the cool drawback of a tumultuous ocean. Din’s arm relaxes at his side as you release a puff of air. 

Your scuffed up fingers, stained with years of engine grease, scars and dirt, curl around your half finished drink. You stand, lay your cards face down onto the table and flash the stranger a feral grin.

Without a word, you toss your drink directly into the man’s unsuspecting eyes. In another breath, the pointed edges of your knuckles fly forward and hook beneath the point of his chin with a meaty thunk. The man’s head whips backwards and connects with the gravely wall—

Out like a light.  

Jaw clenched tight, you shake out your bleeding knuckles and gather up the strewn credits over the table. You shove them into the pockets of your jacket and side eye Din. “Restitutions for damages,” you mutter. 

The other patrons keep their eyes to themselves as the three of you hurry out the door. Only an apathetic glance from the bar tender serves as proof that something did, in fact, occur. No one wants to dirty their nose sniffing about where they shouldn’t be when they have their own business to safeguard.

The crisp night air rustles the stray strands of hair that escape from your ponytail. Ghostly moonlight carves the shape of your cheeks into an almost ethereal sight—one of those deep space creatures with pointy teeth and hellfire for eyes. Stuff of legends you’d never think to look in a dingy bar for.     

But he knows—Din knows that cool mask is just a front from what you hide. It is a hungry ghost that hounds your thin stretched shadow—what ifs and the glories of war you never really escaped. You forget that you are flesh and blood and ghosts are only air and echoes, nothing more. 

Din is sharp edged steel. A stray fragment of a shattered mirror, the lacerated reflection of a nameless purpose and a faceless existence. He’s torn edges and cracked glass but his heart beats within his chest with the blood of a thousand suns. Two souls under the umbrella of the word damaged but entirely different in nature.     

“No one—“ you growl, your voice a steady and lethal timbre that terrifies a part of Din’s unconsciousness, “—speaks that way to my friends.” 

Touching. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Creature,” you huff, staring down at the child who gurgles in return. “He deserved it—“

The reunion certainly wasn’t the one Din imagined, though it’s a relief to find that there’s no roughened edge like sandpaper over skin wedged between you. Picked up right where you left off—no questions asked and no inglorious retelling of how Din nearly died on the floor of a shitty cantina. There’s not a doubt in his mind that you'd laugh at him for it—it is sorta funny…   

The rest of the evening is spent walking back to the hangar, arguing over the fact that yes Din should take the couch instead of that miserable little hovel he calls a bed, and spend the night. He’d have to find some other mechanic to work through the night if he wanted to leave in the morning, because you certainly did not want to volunteer for that. And so—Din reluctantly takes the couch and agrees to let you tackle the monstrosity of fixing up his ship for tomorrow. 

He has to admit…the couch is a bit smaller than the length of his body, but it’s comfortable…maybe he’d buy a better blanket while he was here. As a treat.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

You purse your lips and whistle. “I swear each time I see it, it gets worse. Y’know, I know a couple guys selling—“ 

“Can you fix it?”

You fold your arms over your chest and roll your eyes.“Yeah I can fix it, jeez—no need to get your undies in a twist.” 

You try not to take offense, because hey—you’re offering him the info on the good deals on new ships (and at this point anything would be better than this old rust bucket). But if Din doesn’t want anything to do with that, then whatever. His loss.   

When you wander onto the ship, toolbox in hand, the Mandalorian tags along. Unsure if he doesn’t trust you with his things or just wants to hang out, it blankets the space with an air of uncertainty. Turns out it was neither of those guesses. All he does is throw open his stash of weapons, collect his pile of vibroknives, and set them on a table to polish and sharpen. 

Makes sense, you suppose. Everything has to be as shiny as his armor. 

You drop to your knees near the closest wiring panel you find. You wrench open the paneling and frown at the disarray of sparking wires and tangled cords. You organized these perfectly last time he was here. “Who the fuck junked up my rigging?”

Mando sits at the little table tucked away in the corner, brooding over his cache of weapons. He shrugs. “Could’ve come loose when I landed.” 

You roll your eyes at his half assed excuse and mutter a foul string of curses under your breath that’d make even Peli wince. It’s fine. It’s cool—no biggie. You can sort through this in a couple hours, maybe three. 

But of course rarely anything goes as planned. As time ticks away, arms deep in wires older than the kriffing Clone Wars, the distractions begin. The scrape of metal on durasteel makes the hair rise into little pricks all up your arms—you shoot a glare over your shoulder. Din tilts his head, your kneeling self reflecting within the ever dark visor, features scrunched into an obvious tell of annoyance. Huffing, you bury your head back into your task at hand. 

The second distraction arrives in the form of a quiet hum of curiosity originating from the Mandalorian. Out of the corner of your eye you see him bring a vibroblade up to his visor, inspecting the notch in the blade that disrupts the electrical current that flows through the weapon. Din then rubs his thumb over the handle of the vibroblade in a slow, sensual circle. You lick your lips and tear your eyes away. That shouldn’t be hot.

You furrow your brows and tear apart another wire, but the metallic tap, tap, tap of Din bouncing the tip of a different blade over the table is bothersome. You swing your head to your left, mouth parting to snap at him, but his hand—sans glove—brings you to a halting stop. 

It’s alluring, the way his long, weathered fingers twirl the knife with practiced ease—like silk through water and followed by the low hum of electricity meant to slice through flesh. Din tosses it in the air, watching it spin three rotations then catches it by the handle. Your lips purse when his visor meets your eyes. He spins it between his fingers.  

“Am I bothering you?”

Fucker.   

You scowl. “It’s fine.” 

The soft rasp of his thumb sliding along the flat of the blade entices the eye and damnit—he’s doing this on purpose. 

“Doesn’t seem fine,” he hums. 

“Well, it is.” You retort hotly. You snatch up your pliers and imagine you’re pulling his teeth out in place of the crooked paneling. “I’m currently thriving in my element.”  

Din hums, the sound buzzing with grainy distortion. “Do you want a closer look?”

You chew your bottom lip. He’s playing with an open flame and you with volatile jet fuel. 

“I don’t know, seems kinda lame from here.” You scoff, busying yourself by pinching and twisting another set of frayed wires between your fingertips. “A toothpick if anything.”

Din snorts behind you. The deadly whisper of beskar against the durasteel tabletop makes the hair on the back of your neck prick into points. You tense as heavy boots shuffle along the floor, the near silent rustle of armor tinkling behind you as Din steps closer. You’re slow to stand, even though the presence of the Mandalorian is no less than overbearing. You wipe your grimy hands onto a spare rag, continuing to face the paneling. You then turn, a coy smile threatening to break across your face. 

Stars Din is broad—and close enough you swear you’re able to see the perspiration of your breath fog the beskar plating. Your eyes follow the seams of the cuirass, across the leather bandolier and up to his helmet that’s fixed in an impassive glare of tempered steel. Your back bumps into the wall as Din takes another step forward, boxing you in. To escape you’d need to duck under his arm and yet…you refuse to move.   

Your breath catches as he languidly lifts his hand and taps the flat side of the vibroblade over your collarbone. The sharpened point tickles up the column of your throat, a crackle of nerves and your pounding pulse following in its wake. Din turns the blade to flat edge and pushes into the space right below your jaw—you squirm when he chuckles, the sound low and deep. 

“You like this…”

Din grunts as your hand reaches between his legs, squeezing the growing hardness there. “So do you.” 

Din circles his hand around your wrist with his free palm. Moons above his hands are warm. He murmurs your name—you shiver. “Tell me you want this—want me.”

A blush, hotter than the surface of Tatooine in the midday sun, rushes up your neck and pools into the apples of your cheeks. Maker you want him. With a shuddering sigh you nod—braving the scathing shrapnel of vulnerability. “I need you, Din—please.”

A low chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.”

Din drops his hold on your wrist as you roll your eyes. “Shut up, Bucket Head.”

The Mandalorian snorts and dips his head—gesturing towards the blade still lightly pressed against the base of your throat. “This ok too, Skitter?”

You flash him a wolfish grin. “Gonna fuck me with it?”

Din swears under his breath, crowding his body closer to yours. You hear his strained sigh as he dips his head closer, the beskar a chilly whisper against your cheek. “You’re depraved…take off your pants.”

You smirk, tear off your belt and shimmy out of your pants and underwear, bottom half now bare. His visor dips, entranced.  

Your heart leaps into your throat, your pulse roaring in your ears as he settles one of his bare hands over the swell of your hip while the other trails the blunt edge of the handle from your clothes collarbone, and down your belly. From your mid thigh he skates the handle up your bare thigh and then rests it over the crack of your thigh. Heat flushes through your entire body, a stark contrast to the cool metal of the handle. A shiver races down each vertebrae when he drags it over the swell of your cunt and then carefully pressing it against your clit. You gasp and arch into the light touch, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he increases the pressure. It’s cold, rigid and filthy. Who knows where that knife has been—how many lives it’s taken or severed through muscle and skin. 

You don’t find it in you to care all that much.    

He trades his hold on your hip to slide his hand into your shirt, palming and kneading your breast through your bra as you roll and whine against his fingers. The tight circles he's drawing over your clit burns through your abdomen, drags you closer to the precipice that you’re all ready so close to. Fuck—it’s been so long since you’ve indulged in this sort of pleasure.You whine his name as wicked heat licking up your body and spreading to each limb. You arch into him, the handle of his knife slipping through your folds as arousal drips from your cunt.   

Your groan as you tilt your hips into the handle, craving any lick of pleasure he’ll give. Your breath hitches as Din pushes the hilt closer to your throwing entrance, murmuring praise as he sinks the first couple inches inside of you. It’s cold—the knobby feel of the handle not too much thicker than one or two of your fingers combines. You huff and grab at his cowl, the warmth of his hand grazing your pussy each time he rocks his wrist forward. 

“You’re so quiet,” Din goads, pulling the handle free from your aching center. “You usually have plenty to say.” 

You shoot Din a glare, tongue weighed down by arousal to come up with a god retort. You lean your head back against the wall of the Crest and with a chuckle, Din’s hand leaves your shirt to pull you against his chest, the vocoder rumbling against your ear. The blade clatters to the floor and instead brings his calloused fingertips to your cunt. He softly rolls your swollen clit between his forefinger and thumb, delighting in the way you shake. “Be a good little thing and cum for me.”

Shit, you didn’t think it’d be that easy. Your body seizes as white hot heat ripples through your core. Stars, brighter than a dying sun burst behind your eyes, a high pitched cry filtering past your lips as shake and fall apart in his arms, your cunt clenching tight around the thick fingers he slips inside of you. 

You whine as he pulls out, little aftershocks of pleasure wracking through your body in wake of your euphoric high. You groan as he lifts your head and pushes his digits, coated in your juices into your mouth. You lick them clean, tasting the tang of your own arousal and the salt on his skin. “Fuck—that was good.”

You can only imagine that Din rolls his eyes. He takes a step back but before he can escape—

You drop to your knees, a wicked smile curling over your lips. The muscles in his thighs jump as your palms smooth over the outsides of them, then up to his narrow hips, your thumbs lightly massaging the ligaments that protects the fragile joints. Din sucks in a sharp breath when your fingertips hook around his trousers. 

“What are you doing?” Din asks, brushing a thumb over your jaw. 

You pause and glance up at him. You quirk a brow. “Was gonna suck you off, but if you have something else in mind…“ He hisses and tips his head back, flashing the underside of his chin as your hand leaves his hip to cup the heavy bulge tenting in his trousers. 

“Maker—“ He looks off to the side, inhales a choppy breath and then snaps his head back. “You’d…you’d do that?”   

You nod and flash him an encouraging half grin. “Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

Din mumbles an incoherent string of words under his breath and shifts his weight onto his right leg. His fingers touch your cheek again then tuck a loose hair behind your ear. “But—“

Moons above this man is straight out of some kind of fucking fairytale—arguing about getting his dick sucked—or not. 

Whatever.       

“Din…” His breath hitches at the sound of his name. “I’m asking you kindly to fuck my mouth—it’s cool if you don’t wanna, but my knees already kriffing hurt and—“

He cuts you off with a hasty nod. “Yes—stars, please.”

Fuck yeah.

You smile and slide your eyes past Din’s legs to the cargo crate shoved up against the wall. “You should sit—easier that way.”

He nods and shuffles over, lightly perching himself on the edge and ready to flee at the barest hint of well—anything.

Din’s knee jumps when you place your palm over it. You assume his nerves are from the nature of his occupation—trouble always strikes when you least expect it—and what better time would that be when his pants are around his ankles. “Relax—I’m not gonna bite—maybe.”

He makes a wary sound low in his throat as your fingertips hook into the waistband of his trousers and pull. Din lifts up as you tug the fabric further down his legs, tan skin and solid muscle following in its wake. Fuck…

You swallow, mouth feeling quite dry when your eyes drift between his legs. Din is thick, a rosy brown color, flushed at the tip and curling towards his bellybutton. Beads of liquid shine at the tip, dribbling down the underside and pooling into the dark patch of curls at the base. Din’s fingers hook over the side of the crate, squirming under the weight of your stare. 

Yeah—that’s gonna leave your jaw aching.    

You hear his breath hitch, magnified by the crackle of the vocoder as your lips descend over a silvery scar on the inside of his right knee. You pepper a trail of wet kisses and light nips up his thighs, and by the time you reach the crease of his leg, his hips mindlessly rock with need. 

The second the wet warmth of your tongue brushes over the tip of his cock, his hips jolt off the crate, a load groan echoing through the empty ship. It’s like striking a match to an open line of kerosene—devouring and explosive that’ll leave your delicate skin singed. You’re not nervous playing with fire if this barest scrap of wild heat is anything like burning to a crisp. 

Emboldened by his initial reaction, you wrap your hand around the base, pulsing and achingly hard beneath the velvety flesh. You flatten your tongue over the tip, lapping up the sticky liquid the slip the head of him into your mouth. His hands fly to your hair, tightening into fists as he throws his head back. The beskar scrapes over the durasteel with a sharp squeal, but you don’t find it in you to care about the abrasive sound—eardrums be damned.  

“Fuck—kriffing hell—“ Din snarls, arching his hips to seek more of your warmth. “K-keep going.”  

Your own rekindled arousal blazes hot in your core hearing his stuttered pleas. You pull away to catch your breath, feeling almost guilty for doing so at Din’s low whine of protest. He picks his head up, watching as you languidly jerk him off—entranced with the way your hand rolls over the leaking tip, back down to the base, then up again. You could keep him like this—tease until he cracks under the pressure and begs you for whatever iota of pleasure you want to give but—

You’re not that mean.    

Wetting your lips with your tongue, you part your mouth and slide nearly half of his length into your mouth. Din mutters something garbled, his hips jolting as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head.

Din shifts, arching his back and stuttering out broken whispers of encouragement. Placing your hand over his thigh, you can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingertips, wild and alive—something real beneath all that heavy armor and unforgiving helmet. 

“You—you look…” He grunts as you hum around around his cock, swallowing him down further. “Shit—you look so p-perfect like this.”

You groan and squeeze your thighs together, attempting to ignore the gnawing hunger snapping at your insides. 

Rolling your tongue along the underside of his shaft, your fingers slide over what your mouth cant reach—squeezing and gently coaxing him towards his high. He seizes up tight—yet, just when you think you’ve got him skidding off that precarious edge—

His hand fists your hair at the base your neck and yanks you off his cock. He huffs, breathy little pants as he folds into himself like he’s been punched in the gut, his head rolling forward onto his shoulder. Din shivers as he scrambles for control, beginning to loose that slippery foothold he’s so intent on maintaining. His cock, flushed an angry red and still slick with your saliva, twitches and throbs for the release so cruelly wrenched away. 

You let him catch his breath. The fingers tangled in your hair go lax and drop away to rest at his sides. You swallow, his previous skittishness suddenly clicking into place. “Din, are you…?” A virgin. Your question tapers off, unsure if it’ll embarrass and scare him off. 

“No,” he answers—not in a sharp way like you’d hear with a bruised ego—just stating a fact. “Just not—not this. Never had someone—stars—“

Your teeth roll your bottom lip between them, forcing your face to remain neutral despite the stroke of pride blooming singing in your chest. You’re his first—lucky enough to make this the best goddamned oral he’ll ever have. Something he’ll remember for years.  

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, praying to the Maker he’ll say no. 

He shakes his head, sucking in another calming breath and unfurling himself. His fingers clench into fists then relax, crackling with pent up energy and unsure nerves as to where he should put them. You solve it by threading your fingers through his and placing them around you head. 

Your lips quirk. “You’re allowed to cum in mouth—don’t worry about it.”

His cock twitches as a quiet moan fizzles through the modulator. “You su-sure?”

“Oh, yeah.”

With a smile you bring your mouth back to his cock, tongue swiping up the entire length of him. Din groans as the soft warmth of your mouth slips over the flushed tip of cock, his thick length twitching as you hollow out your cheeks and suck. You bob your head as you slowly work him in further because even like this, hardly halfway into your mouth, you feel your lips stretching a bit too much around him. You groan and part your mouth wider, letting him sink into the soft warmth of your throat.  Din inhales, the sound shaky and unsure as his hips twitch with a few tentative thrusts. 

You take it slow—lifting your mouth nearly all the up to the tip then back down to the base. Din rolls his hips, helping you ease into the gentle pace. Saliva drips down his cock and over your knuckles making an absolute mess you have zero intentions of cleaning up. It’s his ship after all. Din swears as his hips stutter, your hand squeeing around him, trying to push him off that edge he so deserves. Din gasps your name, the pitch of his words knocking up to a lighter, more airy tone, warmer than melted butter. 

“Ca-can’t believe, it—ah—it fits.” He groans with astonished reverence. You preen under his praise. 

You swallow around him and grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you let him rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans. 

You can feel is cock twitching over you tongue—he’s close—and when your eyes roll up to meet the darkened visor, he’s gone. He shouts your name and knots his fists around your hair as he spirals of that edge. You nearly gag from the force of his release hitting the back of your throat—cock throbbing and jerking in your mouth like he’s been denying himself release for months. His moans, fragile and gasping, filling the quiet space as his hips grind his cock deeper down your throat, his hands threaded into your hair acting as an anchor—the sole tether he has to the waking world. 

Din’s grip relents as the last few catastrophic waves tear through his body. He doesn’t move his hands, just lets them rest over your skull  as his chest heaves for precious air, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. You pull his still twitching cock halfway out, dragging the tip of your tongue below the frenulum while one of your hands circles the base of his length. Maker—he’s still going—

Last little dribbles of his cum spurt onto your tongue and drip over your knuckles still securely wrapped around him. His legs and lower abdomen flex when your hand falls lower to carefully knead at his balls, milking out his pleasure for all its worth. You let his softening cock slip from your mouth when he swears and mumbles your name.      

When you rest your back against the wall, he slips himself back into his trousers and joins you. You take a risk and rest your head over the chilly beskar pauldron. You’d never call this love—the word is much too harsh for this delicate string of seconds. Love means giving pieces of yourself to others like martyrs give their hearts to the sky—or risk fragile skin against the rays of an unforgiving sun. Broken ribs and clenched fists, immensity beyond comprehension—

“You should come with us,” he says with a hesitant mumble. Love is formidable—but you know that somehow, here, pressed against Din’s side, that this is right. In a golden way, a honeyed way, a path that tastes of blood, freedom and blaster smoke that will leave your lungs stained with blackened soot. Cowardice has long made a home inside of your soul, and he’s offering you a chance to shake off the layer of frost clinging to your bones and step into the gentle merciful dawn.  

“Yeah—alright, Din. I will.”

tags (only tagging some moots for now bc i have no clue what’s going on in this fandom anymore dbdndn): @goldafterglow @jango-fettish @djxrxn @blsmjoon @spookoofins @krissology @steeeeeeeviebb @teaofpeach @comphersjost @gummiishark @delusionsxfgrandeur @pettyprocrastination @huliabitch

[yourmcu]

Mesmerized (iii)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Request:

@lostaurorax​ said:

hii!! i love ur writing i was wondering if u could write a natasha x reader fic were reader is part of the guardians of the galaxy and they come to the compound and natasha is just starstruck but reader plays kinda hard to get and then just a bunch of fluff !

Word count: 2,138

A/n: notes at the end

Warnings: crash, mentions of explosion, swearing, space mission, soft!nat, quill’s a jerk

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Your departure from Earth made its one-year mark.

Natasha hasn’t felt like herself since you left. She’s known you for a few months but it felt like ages, it felt like she knew everything about you from the amount of time you spent together.

It’s not like you had a choice. The guardians needed you and of course you’re gonna be there for them too. They saved your ass countless of time and, well, they’re your family.

“Shit!”

Natasha frowns, leaning forward a bit from her sitting position. “What’s wrong?”

You fail to respond back. You curse once more in realization that you had no more ammo left in your guns, using your fire conjuring abilities is risky in this situation too, given on what type of creatures you're fighting.

Rocket is still determined to fight but you know he’s not gonna make it alive so you pick him up and sprint to your ship.

“I had it under control!” The raccoon yells.

“You’re kidding, right? The others already left!” You boom, fiddling with the buttons and levers of the ship to try and start it. The rattling of the monsters behind getting you frazzled. “Fucking-”

“Out of the way before you burn the controls, I got it.”

You go to the back part of the ship to reload all your weapons. You sigh in relief when Rocket managed to start the ship.

The mission went horribly wrong. People died and you were outnumbered. You almost set Groot on fire because of how overwhelmed you were, the fact that Quill was expressing how pissed he was at you didn’t help. Usually the team had every mission handled and sorted. You weren’t used to losing.

And you forgot Natasha is still connected to the call.

She just listens further. It's more silent than earlier so she figured you got away from whatever happened, but she's ready to try and help whatever it takes even though she's a thousand miles away.

“Quill’s not responding,” you frown, frantically searching the back of the ship for the backup weapons. “He must’ve turned his comms off. Can you contact the other ship there?”

“No, offline,” Rocket mumbles, more focused on getting the ship moving. “But geez, you and him have to sort things out.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Save it, we’re still being followed!” Rocket swerves in attempt to knock off the creatures - who're still actively chasing the spaceship. They could fly, and there are a lot. You couldn’t imagine anything like it.

You try your best to fight them off through the spacious hatch on top, but of course you have no match for all of them. You wish Thor was here. As far as you knew he's sorting Asgard things out with Valkyrie.

Every minute just gets worse. The flight gets unstable the more those creatures are catching up, you're surprised they're so determined to destroy both of you.

“Can you go any faster?!”

“I can’t, can I?!” Rocket's driving and pressing multiple buttons for the jump at the same  time.

“Y/N,” Natasha calls out, hoping you could still hear her. “I can tell the team if you need any help-”

On your end, she just got more blasters and guns going off, orders flying between you and the raccoon.

“We need to shake them off, this ship’s not gonna handle them,” You say exasperated. “I’m gonna cause a distraction, got it? You need to get us out of here - anywhere - I don’t care how many jumps it takes!”

Rocket, as rare as it is, displays concern in his face, but he sighs and grips on the levers. “Ready when you are.”

You suck in a breath, letting out a huge burst of what seems like fire and just - heat, aiming at the creatures closest to the ship. It gets nearly all of them. The raccoon mutters a quick countdown, watching you fall unconscious from the hatch in the corner of his eye. He pushes the lever forward slowly, jumping to the one place he knows the both of you could get help.

Earth.

-

As soon as you let yourself go, Natasha loses the connection. The intensity of you using your powers like that might’ve affected it.

“God,” she mutters, pacing around her table, “Friday, you still have contact on that ship?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff,” the A.I responds, and for a moment, a huge explosion sounded somewhere in the forest near the compound. “...and they just landed. Would you like me to send you the exact coordinates?”

Of course Natasha doesn’t waste time to go out and find you. Thankfully Steve is around and was shaken by the sudden explosion too. It’s snowing, the forest covered with thick snow so it wouldn’t be hard to find wherever the ship crashed.

“She’ll be alright, Nat. We’ll find her.” Steve reassures.

Natasha’s breath hitches at the sight of the aircraft completely destroyed, pieces everywhere, she wasted no time to find you under all the rubble.

The unconscious raccoon isn’t hard to find, but you had it worse considering you were already out before the crash.

“Steve,” she states, walking over scraps and metal to get to you. You're sickly pale, giving Natasha the feeling that she's too late but she did feel a slight pulse. There’s blood on the side of your forehead but other than that,

“She’s freezing,” and it isn’t from the snow alone, she thought. You're colder than that. Natasha has an arm around your back and behind your knees, getting ready to carry you. “Steve, we-”

“I’ll call Bruce to get them sorted out. Try and find their stuff that’s not destroyed.” His tone is firm. He doesn’t wait for a response, gently grabbing you from her and strides back to the compound.

Natasha sighs. Almost everything she sees is unrecognizable except for a few complicated looking guns that definitely looks like Rocket’s and your bag you took on one of your dates. Biting the inside of her cheek, she opens it, sighing in relief when everything inside looked in order.

She finds a wallet-sized picture of both of you at a fair's photo booth. You always held onto it and kept it in your pocket most of the time that's why it looks worn out, probably from you holding it so much. This makes Natasha's heart ache, deciding to keep it for the meantime, carrying all your stuff that's left to the compound.

- You wake with a start. You're facing the clean white ceiling of the Avengers' med bay and you tilt your head to the side to see Natasha sleeping on a stool beside your bed with her head lulling forward and her arms are crossed. As much as you feel relieved to see her, you're confused on how you got here, how she found you. You lift your arm to gently pat the redhead awake. She sighs and goes to rub her neck. "You're cold." You smile softly, cringing at the rasp of your voice. "Didn't want you to be sore from the way you were sleeping." "I'm glad you're awake." "How long was I out?" Natasha gets up to get you a glass of water while you sit up the bed. "Twelve hours. You definitely needed the rest, everything sounded really crazy up there," she says. "Rocket's somewhere around, he left his bed the moment he got up." She hands you the glass and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. Feeling how cold you still are since they found you in the forest, she grabs a remote to crank the heater up a bit. You purse your lips and cross your legs, looking at her. "How'd you find us?" "Let's just say we heard the impact of the crash from here," Natasha eyes the bandages on the side of your head for a moment. "It was really lucky your ship crashed nearby, but you know I wouldn't hesitate to get on the jet just to find you. And when I did, I... I thought you were-"

Your hand immediately goes to cup her cheek, the contrast of warm and cold making Natasha relax in your touch. "I'm here now. You saved me." She returns your smile and holds onto your hand on her cheek. "I missed you." "I missed you too." "You know, I did specifically set those coordinates," Rocket says as he enters the room with Tony. "Technically I saved us." Your smile only widens and Natasha chuckles, turning to Tony to see what he has to say about your condition. "You really wore yourself out there fireball, is she still freezing cold?" He asks this to Natasha specifically and she nods. You furrow your eyebrows and turn to your fists, clenching them, only noticing now that you are freezing. "I'm gonna run a simple test and if all goes as expected, Bruce is gonna give you a shot." "Have you already got a conclusion on what happened to me?" You question. Tony pulls out something from his pocket. "Sure have. Now set this on fire." He tosses you a solid crumpled paper. Holding it between three fingers you expect it to turn into ash in your palm, but it stayed the way it is. You're looking at it now to help focus on setting it on fire but it still stayed as normal paper. Natasha grips you on the arm. "I think that's enough." "You went all out with your powers. I did see you let out an overwhelming amount when we were trying to outrun those creatures before you passed out." Rocket states. "Naturally it'll come back, but the shot should help you with your... body temperature and hopefully the speed of recovery." Tony adds. You groan, back landing on the pillow behind you. Not only does losing your powers suck but you aren't a big fan of needles either, but you'll deal with them if you really have to. Natasha's hand slowly crawls up to intertwine with yours, although her attention was still on Tony. "She's gonna have to stay here at least until she recovers, right?" She also looks at Rocket if he has any objections but he merely nods his head. "'Course, they're welcome here for as long as they want." Tony claps his hands together and dismisses himself, Rocket following behind. "In the meantime I'll be figuring out a way to build a new ship." The raccoon says before closing the door behind him. Natasha makes her way to sit beside you and you automatically scooch to make space and rest your head against her shoulder, taking a breath. "You alright?" You shrug. "I guess I do feel pretty useless without those powers. I mean, Quill without a doubt would never let me go on missions anymore. I'd just be a burden to everyone." She lets go of your hand to put around you. "Everything doesn't revolve around your powers, Y/N. You're not useless. I bet you could take that Quill guy down in a fist fight." You let out a chuckle, shaking your head. "What's that guy like anyway?" The sudden question makes your head perk up. "Oh, you know, Quill, he's a nice guy-" Natasha let out a noise, cutting you off. "Didn't sound like it while I was connected in the call." "He can be a mouthful to me sometimes," you admit quietly. "Not to everyone though, I do generally think he's a nice guy. I have no idea what I did that made him so pissed at me." You look up at her and she's staring at the wall, seeming like she's deep in thought. "He doesn't hurt you, does he?" "God, no. He's not like that," you say. "If he did want to of course I wouldn't just take it." Natasha smiles, "that's my girl." You hung your head low so she couldn't see the way you flushed at the phrase, biting your lip to hold in a smile. “I’m glad you have my back, though.”

“I always do. Always will.”

"So, when can I leave this room?"

"After Bruce gives you the shot, then we can do whatever we want." She tilts your head up to move your hair out of your face. You look at her with an amused expression, "where do you plan on taking me this time?” Natasha smirks at the question. She loves spending all her time with you and the sight of you enjoying yourself makes it better. "There’s a new bookstore open, thought you might like it. Also an amusement park. It’s a few hours away but I can always drive. Oh, Tony’s cabin. I’m sure he’d love you to meet his newborn Morgan.”

“Sounds like you have a list,” you muse.

Natasha hums, pulling you closer. “I do.”

-

final one!! no one’s really looking forward to this but I enjoyed writing it anyway :)

btw wrote this way before thor: love and thunder so i have no idea what him and the guardians are up to but i wish them the best

[shameless plug] check out this natasha ambience i made some people thought it was cool

[ithebookhoarder]

Prequel Star Wars (Head-canons): Dealing with a sick reader

A/N: After the request for these head canons for the original trio I kind of got inspired for the other trios too... oops?

Masterlist: 

Anakin:

Ok. There’s only one word for Anakin when you’re sick: worrier.

Yep. This man is on red alert real quick the minute you mention even thinking you feel a bit under the weather. In fact, he’d have you back in your chambers and buried under a pile of blankets before you can even try to tell him it isn’t necessary.

“You can’t be too careful, and you do feel rather warm. You may have a fever-”

“Anakin! Say that once you’ve felt my forehead again, but with your non-robotic hand this time.”

“Oh.”

It’s rather sweet actually, watching the way Anakin scurries about getting anything and everything you could possibly need. 

It’s also ironic considering this is the man who always insists he is fine, even when he has blaster wounds all over him. He may have been adversed to letting people take care of him, but he’s only too eager to take care of you. 

After all, since his mother died, you are all he really has in the way of family. He’s not about to let something as simple as a cold kill you. 

So, you let him fuss, knowing it’s just as good for him as it is for you, to let him play nurse maid for a while. 

“Do you need more pillows? I also can get Obi-wan to get some more of that tea you like from the market too if you want.” 

“I’m fine, Ani.”

“Are you sure? You still look pale-“

“Just come cuddle with me, ok? Just a for a while?”

Needless to say, he’s only too happy to cradle you in his arms and let you drift off to sleep against him, softly humming under his breath as he brushes the hair off of you face. 

This is how it stays for the next few days or so, until you’re finally strong enough to get back up and move around the temple. 

Even then, Anakin is like a shadow, following you around incase you’re wrong and it turns out you’re not strong enough yet to be up and about. 

“Ani, honey, I’m fine. I promise. I’m not made of glass, you don’t have to always worry something’s going to break me.” 

He knows you’re right, even if he’s reluctant to admit it. So, he settles for a kiss and a compromise that you at least let Ahsoka keep an eye on you while you work. It has been nearly a week since either of you left your quarters and people were going to start getting suspicious soon if he didn’t let you be by yourself. 

However, he doesn’t need to worry. 

It’s only a day later he starts coughing and feeling sick himself. 

It’s hard not to laugh at the irony as you take his arm and start hauling him back to bed, ready to return the favour. What was one more week of seclusion, just the two of you? At least this time you’d get to play nurse maid. 

Obi-Wan: 

Unlike Anakin, Obi-wan is rather calm when it comes to handling any kind of problem. So, when he finds you slumped over, face down, in the text you’d been trying to read in the archives, he merely chuckles.

“Darling, wake up. You fell asleep again.”

“Obi?” You blink, groaning as you try to sit up without falling over from the sudden dizziness you feel rushing through you.  

Of course, one look at you is enough to tell him something is definitely wrong with you. 

“Oh dear, you look dreadful.”

“Wow. Such a charmer.”

“I try,” he teases, helping you up and wrapping an arm around you as he starts to escort you back to your rooms. You need some rest, clearly, if you’ve become rundown enough to catch some kind of bug. It’s probably the same one that’s been going around the younglings recently.

“Here we are. Let’s get you changed and settled in to bed, alright?”

His voice is so soft and soothing as he mothers you, seeing to your every need with barely a complaint. He has you out of your robes and into something comfy in the blink of an eye. He also makes you some tea and retrieves some medication from his bathroom cabinet, insisting you take some before sleeping. 

Obi-wan is also a patient man. Being Master to Anakin for the last ten years has ensured that, meaning he is more than prepared for your whining and moaning. 

He simply smiles, laughing at the rather adorable pout you wear whenever he tries to get you to take some more medication or agree to stay in bed for another day. 

“But I have a report due tomorrow for Master Fisto-“

“I’ve already explained the situation to him. He has someone else finishing it for him.”

“Well, I also have that class with the younglings-”

“Which Master Yoda has also agreed to cover, so you have nothing to worry about except recovering, alright?”

It is alright, despite you pretending otherwise. When else do you get to spend so much time along together? In fact, despite feeling like death warmed up, you rather like letting him take care of you and entertaining you with whatever book he’s been reading lately. 

He always looks happiest when he has you nestled under his arm, and a book in his free hand. Needless to say, he has no problems reading you off to sleep every night, watching as you drift off by the time he’s finished another chapter. 

“Sleep well, my love.” 

And you do. You sleep remarkably well with Obi-wan next to you which is why, even after you’re better, you’re quick to invite him to sleep in your bed as many nights as you can.  

You’re also eager to return the favour and read to him instead, as he eventually falls asleep to the sound of your voice night after night. 

Who knew the great General Kenobi was so adorable when asleep?  

Padme:

Now, Padme may be royalty, but she is a public servant first and foremost. Her entire life is dedicated to the service of others, so when she sees you struggling to keep yourself upright at your desk, she is all over you. 

“Y/N? What is it? Are you feeling alright?” 

“I’m fine, Padme. It’s just stress.”

“Sure you are. Why else have you been staring at that page for the last hour and a half?” 

She pauses, frowning at you and trying not to roll her eyes at your stoic nature. On one hand, it’s rather ironic for her to scold you when she herself has been known to burn the candle at both ends. However, there comes a point when it was impossible to ignore your body’s obviously worsening condition. 

So, she swiftly orders you to bed and instructs a physician to check nothing is terribly wrong with you - even if you insist it isn’t necessary. 

“Well, it is to me, alright?” 

And of course, how can you say no to that sweet face when she pouts and bats her eyelids? 

“Ugh! Fine!”

One annoyingly tedious check up later, you’ve been diagnosed with a mild stomach bug and told to rest for the remainder of the week. 

“Here. I have some juice for you. You need fluids if you’re going to recover quicker.” 

You smirk at the idea that a queen is serving you as she bursts into your room the following day, carrying a tray laden with fruit and a pitcher of your favourite juice. 

You’re quick to thank her, downing the glass within seconds, much to her amusement. 

“Thirsty are we?”

“And bored,” you whine, grinning as Padme passes you a data pad with a knowing wink. “You angel!”

“Hardly. You get one hour to work, ok? Then I’m taking it back and you’re having a nap? Understood?”

It seems like a fair enough compromise as you sit up and read the briefings she’s downloaded for you. In fact, by the time your hour is up, your eyes are drooping and you’re struggling to sit up by yourself. 

“No protests? I am surprised.”

She clearly isn’t, but she’s too kind to say so as she kisses your forehead and clambers in to bed next to you as you nestle in close.

The soft scent of her perfume and the sound of her heartbeat is all the lullaby you need as you let yourself grab a few more hours of sleep. 

A few days of this routine, and of Padme’s diligent care, and you’re back to your old self in no time. 

In fact, a small part of you rather looks forward to the next time either one of you are sick given how nice it is to have the time to spend together. 

So, you still insist on taking a nap together every afternoon despite being off bed rest. “Merely as a precaution” - or so you insist as you steal Padme from her office every day without fail for a small escape. “Wouldn’t want our favourite Senator to fall sick now, would we?”  

[crispyjenkins]

“Chosen One Obi” sequel sneak peek

(i’ve been fighting the same prompt for a month now, and this chapter of hunger is even worse and it is just   n  o  t   happening this week. seriously, this is the worst block i’ve had on a story in years, and it’s exhausting and i’ve tried giving them both breaks, tried scrapping it all and starting over, flipping povs, changing the outline, butttt nada.

so! while i can’t give a sneak peek of my current secret project, i have been thinking about that chosen one obi prompt again, and thought y’all might like to see what i’ve been playing with in terms of a sequel. ‘think i might get the next dha kar’ta out while i figure out what tf is going on with my brain (ღT◡Tღ)

Alt+R to Quick Reblog on Desktop, Hold the Reblog Symbol to Quick Reblog on Mobile

-

  When Quinlan steps into his buir’s cantina in Foxsoll, looking like he’d seen the second coming of the Sith, Obi-Wan is too surprised to focus on the whispers the Force is trying to weasel into his mind. 

  Frozen behind the bar, Quinlan comes to him through the early-evening crowds, and how many times had he thought about visiting the Temple? About checking in on his friends? How many times had he talked himself out of it?

  “Obi-Wan?” Quinlan asks, as if afraid of the answer; Obi-Wan hasn’t heard that name here in far too long, not since Jango and Jaster had last been around.

  “Quinlan,” he whispers back, and wonders if someone had spiked the papuur’gal at lunch.

  Blinking, Quinlan looks him up and down quickly as something seems to connect in his mind. “Oh,” he says, looking floored, and the Force refuses to tell Obi-Wan what conclusion he had come to. “It’s you?”

  Obi-Wan frowns worriedly. “Are you alright, Quin?”

  “It’s you? Why didn’t you say anything?!”

  Chalmun senses the change in mood immediately, latching onto the edges of Obi-Wan’s mind as he all but storms out of the back storeroom with a few choice Xaczik swears on his lips. Obi-Wan doesn’t get the chance to tell him Quinlan is a friend, because Chalmun takes one look at Quinlan’s expression and comes to a realisation of his own, before grabbing the both of them by the back of their tunics to drag them to the private lounge. Obi-Wan knows better than to protest, but Quinlan yelps in surprise.

   Chalmun hasn’t been a Journeyman Protector in almost five years, but he hasn’t lost the bearing, nor the wall of blasters and bowcasters at the back of the lounge; Quinlan takes this all in quickly, but as soon as Chalmun sets them on their feet, he’s right back Obi-Wan’s space.

  “Why the kriff didn’t you say anything?” he demands, distressed and angry, and Obi-Wan automatically reaches out for his mind, trying to project calm and peace.

  “I’m so sorry, Quin, but there was Xanatos, and the Mand’alor found me and I didn’t– I didn’t think the Temple would want me–”

  Stunned, Quinlan looks from Obi-Wan to Chalmun and back again. “Wait, no– No, Obi, why didn’t you tell us you were the Chosen One.”

  Ah, this nonsense again.

  Obi-Wan deflates and glares at his buir over Quinlan’s shoulder. “It’s nice to see the crazies hadn’t died out,” he scoffs, and Chalmun just shakes his head.

  “You know everyone can feel it, cub.”

  Quinlan knows enough Shyriiwook to at least guess what Chalmun says. “How long has he been like this?”

  It takes Obi-Wan a moment to realise Quinlan isn’t even speaking to him anymore, Chalmun giving a great shrug. “Always.”

  “But that...” Quilan reaches out a gloved hand, Obi-Wan allowing him to almost touch him, to skate over the Force just above his skin.

  “Anyone with a midichlorian count above baseline can feel it,” his buir adds unhelpfully. “It’s caused us quite a few problems, when the less savoury sort have come poking around.”

  “Buir,” he sighs, but allows Quinlan to touch him fully, hand pressed along and down his neck. “Quin, you knew what I felt like before, I don’t–”

  “Yeah, you’ve always felt like this,” Quinlan breathes. “But not like this.”

  “What the kriff does that even mean.”

  “If... Kriff, you’d been at the Temple longer than anybody in the crèche!”

  “I am even less sure of what you’re trying to say now.”

  Shaking his head, Quinlan looks up at Chalmun with a mutual understanding that Obi-Wan does not share. “Does it get easier to look at, the longer you’re around him?”

  “Indeed. He is still a lantern, I could find him from the other side of the planet, but you stop thinking about it.”

  At Quinlan’s sheepish expression, Obi-Wan sighs and translates for him. 

  “Master Plo called you that, too,” he says to Obi-Wan after a moment. “A lantern.”

  “I’m not the ‘Chosen One’, Quinlan.” He steps out from under Quinlan’s hand and glares at the both of them, trying to ignore the way the Force chimes in his head like he’d chosen the wrong answer on a gameshow holo. “Why wouldn’t the masters have sensed it?” If what he remembers about the prophecy is correct, someone would have noticed before now, before Bandomeer.

  “Obes, I think we were all just used to you. Kriff, hey, you remember the Zabraki woman, who came to write about the architecture of the Temple? Maker, we should have realised then, she even called you ‘the chosen’...”

  “Perhaps you will have better luck with him,” Chalmun rumbles. “He will not listen to me.”

  “That sounds in character.” Smiling, Quinlan shuffles to pull a datapad out of the pack over his shoulders. “I’m a Shadow now, Obes, Master Tholm wouldn’t hear of it until I’d given it a shot. I’m here on a mission from the High Council, from Master Windu, there’s some rumours in the lower levels of Coruscant about a Force Sensitive on Concord Dawn. And, when Master Qui-Gon finally faced du Crion, he let slip he’d been looking for the Chosen One as well.”

  Xanatos du Crion. The reason Obi-Wan is even hiding in Mandalore Space in the first place, a dark shadow that has not left his mind since he had tracked Obi-Wan here through Jango. 

  “Master Ti thought it all too much to be coincidence,” Quinlan is saying, holding out the datapad that Obi-Wan doesn’t even bother looking at. It is time, the Force whispers to him, we can hide you no longer. “And then as soon as I touched down, I felt you, Obi-wan. The– The Agricorp masters said you never made it to them, that you would were still in the spaceport when du Crion bombed it. No one knows you’re alive.”

 Chalmun takes the pad instead, looking it over even though Aurebesh isn’t his strong point. “The Mand’alor and I have been keeping him safe out here, we knew others would seek out his power. And I knew we could only do that for so long; it seems we’ve finally run out of luck.”

-

Mando’a: buir —“parent”, gender neutral papuur’gal — a Mandalorian wine, probably akin to a white wine

[beskarhearts]

Human (Din Djarin x reader)

Connection series: Part 3

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings: cursing, mention of family members dying (let me know if I missed any)

Word count: A little over 4.6K

Summary: The Mandalorian feels a lot of things he’s never felt before and finally gets to ask you some questions.

Notes: This one is entirely from Din’s perspective except for the very end. I absolutely loved writing from it so let me know if you did. also let me know what you all thought! I’d love to hear some feedback!

Previous Part ___ Next Part

_____________________________________________

Din Djarin had never felt so human before.

For so many years, he simply felt like a machine or a droid. He’d get bounties, hunt them down, turn them in for credits, and the cycle endlessly continued. He never complained, even though it was lonely and lacked the fulfillment it once gave him, because it was The Way and he swore an oath that he would never break. And if Din Djarin was one thing, it was a loyal man - some would say perhaps to a fault. 

Din Djarin was aware that this life was different from so many others and would be considered by many to be a bizarre life, maybe even a depressing one. So many found a way of living where you had no friends, no companions, no connections, to be a inconceivable thing. The job of a Mandalorian was all-consuming, one that intertwined with every aspect of ones life. It wasn’t just a set of armor, it was a code to live by. And Din never complained about it, despite the years he spent traveling from planet to planet in his Razor Crest, with nobody but himself and absolute silence.

He knew his life was so different and so closed off, but he didn’t really become aware of it until the child entered his life. Din Djarin had never really cared for anyone before, not because he was bad person but because he had no one around him and definitely no one who cared for him. Many people cared to see what was under the helmet out of curiosity. What did a man whose whole life was meant to take down or kill bounties for a few credits look like? Those people wanted to see his face but never cared about the person underneath the armor, the feelings and thoughts he had only ever being his own, never shared with anyone else.

But, the kid changed some of that. He made Din realize how much he could care for one little being and taught him that his code was worth breaking, if only it was this once so he could protect the creature who he treated as a son. Not only did the kid make him realize that, but he also made him realize how much he craved a family. His had died when he was so young and then he became a Mandalorian, which made it hard to make friends or meet people, nonetheless a family. He unnerved people, scared them even. At the very least he made them uncomfortable. But, not the kid. The kid probably didn’t even understand what Din was, but he didn’t care about the helmet or the armor. He was just a kid, someone who Din could care for and protect, and made Din feel less lonely and sometimes even appreciated, maybe even loved.

And then she came along.

He initially didn’t want to bring her along. But, she wouldn’t stop nagging him about it, saying how she could be a full time mechanic for him and help with the kid (and while he loved the kid, he was a total pain in the ass at times). She also wasn’t bad with a blaster and he had to begrudgingly admit she had saved his ass on that fateful day. The kid also instantly loved her, which puzzled the Mandalorian. It was like the kid laid eyes on her and decided she must stay by his side and she seemed to take a liking to the child as well. They had an instant connection and while the idea of bringing a woman (a very sarcastic one, too) into his life scared him, he knew he was in trouble because he couldn’t say no to the kids desire to have her come along. And it was possible that even from the beginning, he couldn’t say no to her. She was too enticing, too unique. She was so different from every aspect of his life.

At first, she drove him crazy, not because she was bad person or anything, but because he had no clue what to do around her. She would make these jokes, teasing him, and he didn’t know how to react. People didn’t joke with him often, out of fear he’d shoot them. But she didn’t seem to be scared around him, which was the first bizarre thing he noticed about her. She would also talk. A lot. She would ask questions and blabber away with the child. He was used to the quiet but now she was here and his ship was full of giggles and chatter. It felt brighter and though the environment had shifted in a way he wasn’t used to, he enjoyed it a little.

She had tried talking to him at first but then stopped, and Din supposed that was probably his fault. He didn’t know how to talk to her though. Sometimes he even thought of things to say to her, responses to her questions, come backs to her jokes, but he felt so uncomfortable at the thought of actually doing it. He was a Mandalorian, not a normal person who could just talk to someone. Innocent conversations and exchanging jokes were things for people like her to do, people who were normal. Not for him. He had a reputation to uphold.

But it was like she didn’t even care about who he was or about his reputation. She had made a joke about him being a glorified tin can (a joke that Din decided he couldn’t determine if it was insulting or the funniest thing he’s ever heard) and had asked for his name, which he realized many people never bothered to ask. But, she didn’t ask what he looked like or ask him to take off the helmet. She didn’t seem to judge him for his profession or his way of life. She treated him normally. And that was more mind boggling to him than anything else. That confused him and he didn’t know what to do.

So instead of trying, he grunted and gave her short responses, ignoring her presence otherwise. The days would still be full of her and the child conversing with each other, but the nights would be silent with the two of them in separate rooms.

But now things were different. Instead of feeling so far apart that they might as well had been on two different planets, Din felt close to her. So much so he had given her his name. He hadn’t even realized he had done it until his name was being said by her. He didn’t regret it though. All he did was damn himself for not telling her sooner as she repeated his name, like his name was only for her to know and like it was meant to be said by her, and only her. 

When he later pondered on why he had told her, he realized it was because she cared about him. He could see it in her eyes, after he had saved her from the bullet. She cared about him and that care scared her so much. And the way he felt for the child and for her scared him too. Because he knew he’d do anything for them, no matter the consequences. And he could tell she felt the same, and he felt the least he could do to repay her for her kindness was to tell her his name.

Since he told her, she would say his name as often as possible and he never got sick of it. She’d greet him in the morning with a “Good morning, Din.” She would try to get his attention by calling out for him by name.  He was no longer Mando. He was Din to her. He was a person to her. 

________________________________________

Night had become Din’s favorite part of the day. He would wait eagerly for the child to quiet down and for the sounds of her stepping up the ladder, into the cockpit where he was. He would listen for her, wait for her to sit down in the seat besides his. Then he look over at her. 

Every night she would do the same thing. She would look into the galaxy, into hyperspace, like it was the first time she’d ever seen it. Her eyes would be glowing from it, her lips slightly parted in an expression of wonder. One side of her lips would quirk up, into that lopsided smile that Din had had begun to crave more and more. Din had traveled for many years of his life now and had seen so many places, but he swore watching her in that moment was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Tonight was no exception. She had brought a blanket up with her, cuddling up with it as she brought her knees to her chest, the chair swallowing her as she leaned against it.  “The kid took forever to fall asleep tonight. I swear he does it on purpose sometimes, just to watch me go crazy.” 

He loved hearing her talk now, couldn’t get enough of it. The soft ebb and flow of her voice was like a melody to him and sometimes he could feel himself drift into it, wishing he could fall asleep to it. He found himself yearning for it and that puzzled him. He had never felt like that before. Not with anyone and it almost scared him, except it was her. And she vowed to protect him and he trusted she would be there. So for once, he would allow himself to feel, no matter how uncharted the territory was and no matter how silly he felt at times. 

“The little bugger likes to do that. It’s annoying.” He grumbled out. He loved the kid, he really did, but he had a knack for screaming, crying, and being defiant at the worst of times. The kid got to be by her side all day. Night was Din’s time with her.

“Oh, yeah. Says the man who no longer has to deal with it.” Din knew she was joking by the sly smile on her face. He used to not look at her really, just stare into hyperspace. But now he liked to. He wanted to see the way her expressions changed, her smiles when they joked, her eyes as she would look over at him.

“I have to wait up here for you while the kid screams.” 

“Well, well, Din. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like my company. Perhaps you even miss me.” She let out a little giggle at the notion, like that was something impossible. But it was true.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, sweet one.” Din froze instantly, the words escaping his lips before he could even think about it. He saw as her eyebrows raise a little but the smile on her lips never faded.

“Well, I never would of guessed that Din Djarin was a flirt.”

That was the thing though. Din Djarin wasn’t a flirt. In all his years, he couldn’t recall one time he has gone out of his way to flirt with someone. Sure, he had found people attractive. That was only natural. But he never went out of his way to do something about it and had never really known someone long enough to want to do it. And it’s not even that Din intended to flirt with the woman before him. But he was finding himself doing a lot of things around her that he didn’t do with others. And he didn’t know what that meant but he knew it felt nice and normal. And after everything he has gone through in life and the way he has lived for so long, didn’t he deserve that at least? If only for once, with her and his child?

“Can I ask you a question?” She asked, looking back in front of her, into the galaxy. Din was grateful for the change in conversation but was also nervous about her questions. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to answer them necessarily, but he worried he’d answer something and turn her away, push her away from him. He supposed it was a silly notion but he still feel a bit of fear creep into his chest at her question.

He also understood her desire to ask him questions though because he wanted to ask her about everything. He wanted to know everything about her life, her past, her passions. He wanted to uncover the layers between them. 

“Only if I can ask you some too.” It sounded like a good compromise to him. She got to ask her questions, no matter how nerve-wracking it seemed to him, and he got to know a bit more about the person who was learning to care about more and more.

“Deal.” She reached her hand over so he could shake it. He pulled one of his hands off the controls on the dashboard and reached it over to her. Their hands clasped at each other and shook, until they both let go. “Alright, Din. You go first.”

“No, ladies first.” He wanted her to go first, so she could set the tone of the conversation. He didn’t know if they were asking trivial little questions like their favorite food, or deeper ones. 

“What a gentlemen you are.” Din let a chuckle out at that idea. He never would consider himself a gentlemen but he didn’t bother to argue with her about it. “Do you ever regret bringing me along?”

Din’s head whipped over to look at her, but he watched as she pulled at a loose string on her sweater, looking down and not at him. The question broke his heart instantly. Was this something she worried about? Despite the uncomfortableness in the beginning, Din had never wished once she wasn’t there. In fact, he couldn’t imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t let her join, leaving her on that cold planet where he had met her.

“Kriff, no.” She finally turned her head to look at him, looking worried but hopeful at his initial response. “The kid... he absolutely adores you. I think if you hadn’t come, he probably would of killed me with his magic hand thing.” 

She let out a laugh at that and Din smiled under the helmet, glad to see her concern dissipate a little. “And,” he continued on, “I am glad you are here. You’ve made life... better.”

She let out a little hum at that, appearing to hold back a big grin at his words. “I guess that was a sufficient response. Your turn.”

“That planet I picked you up from-”

“Yungbrii?”

“Yeah. Was that your home?”

She scoffed in response to the question. “Maker, no. That was just a place to... escape to.” A sadness reached her eyes and she looked as if she was drowning in the past. “My family and I used to live in Jakku, in a small little area outside of the Nimma Outpost.”

“Isn’t that place just for scavengers?” 

“I mean, mostly. That and a whole bunch of other shady stuff. Probably not the greatest place to raise your kid but it was fine. My father was the only mechanic there and it was the only place on the planet with a beacon so quite a few people would pop in. Most of the people who stopped by were running from something, so their ships were mostly likely garbage and they’d pay upfront with credits, so it worked out okay for us.”

“Did you like it there?”

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, shaking her head and giving Din another one of her classic grins. “Now, I see you are trying to get away with two questions in a row. It’s my turn.”

“Fine.”

“Where did you grow up?” 

Din whipped his head towards her again, watching as she faced him and leaned her face against her hand, waiting for his response. Where did he grow up? No one asked him questions like that because no one cared. And Din was usually grateful to avoid questions like those, because the pain that came with those memories was something he didn’t want to face. 

“Aq Vetina.” Din knew the words were said coldly, and she didn’t deserve that. But every time he thought of that place, all he saw were the droids destroying everything he had ever known and the last glimpse of his parents faces before he was hidden away in darkness, never to see them again.

“There were Mandalorians on Aq Vetina? I thought that place was destroyed or something.” The words were said with no bad intentions, only pure curiosity and confusion but an uneasy silence still filled the room. He no longer looked at her but felt her gaze drift to him. “Oh... I’m sorry. I didn’t... I didn’t know or- ”

“It’s my turn now, right?” He wanted to change the topic before he got even more upset and took it out on her. He didn’t want her feeling guilty. She didn’t know and it wasn’t her fault.

“Um, yeah.” 

Din cleared his throat, trying to think of a question that would ease the tension. But he had one nagging away at the back of his mind, one that had plagued his thoughts more and more as time went on. “Why did you want to come with me and the kid?”

“Honestly, I had wanted to leave Yungbrii for a while. But, there weren’t a lot of people which meant not a lot of credits and not a lot of ways out. A lot of the people who came too were real sleaze balls, not the kind of guys you wanted to board a ship with. But then you came in and you were different. Kind of annoying at first but you didn’t scare me. And then I saw the kid and thought if he is taking care of that, hopefully that means he isn’t some crazy freak.

“But, it wasn’t just that you weren’t a freak, which I mean only as a compliment.” She let a small chuckle out at that and Din felt better as she continued on. “I can’t explain it but the kid... I knew instantly that he was special. I’m not much of a people person but I instantly liked the kid and trusted him. And I could tell that he wanted me to come and if he trusted you, then I could too. And even though you weren’t the most charming character when I met you, I could tell you had a heart. I saw the way the kid looked up to you and the way you protected him. You are a good guy.”

Din’s heart warmed at her answer. He could imagine that a lot of people definitely didn’t have that impression of him when they saw him but even the first time they met, she was able to look beneath the armor and the helmet. She didn’t know anything about him but was able to tell he was a protector and despite his reputation, he cared. “You didn’t care I was a Mandalorian?”

“Eh, not really. My grandmother wasn’t fond of your kind but I figured it was maybe some old school way of thinking. And even if it wasn’t, that doesn’t mean all Mandalorians are the same.” 

Din Djarin was awestruck by the woman he was sat with. He was so used to people hating him for who he was, or at the very least being scared of him. And the fact she was able to disregard all the assumptions people made about Mandalorians and look at him as a person first showed her true character. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. That should just be considered common human decency.” He supposed that was true. But it didn’t make her any less special to him. “Okay... hmm... okay, I got one. Have you ever loved someone?”

Now that was not expected at all. His helmet whipped around so fast to look at her, half expecting her face to be turned away but she stared back at the Mandalorian, sitting patiently for an answer. Has he ever loved someone? That’s a hard hitting question yet also a rather simple one, sad enough. Din thought back to his past. Sure, he had noticed attractive people. There had been a few times he’d allowed himself to indulge, but never would he describe it as love. It was just a meaningless night with a person who was lonely too and didn’t mind the helmet. And now that he thought about it, he’d never even kissed someone really. The helmet was always on and he never trusted anyone enough to keep it off, in fear they’d sneak a peak at the infamous bounty hunter.

So, no, Din Djarin had never experienced love. He had never been in love nor has he ever been loved by someone. And while he was able to be reasonable about it in his head, it was harder saying it out loud. He was old enough that that was weird, if not embarrassing. Especially considering the woman beside him.

She was beautiful, with soft features yet such a strong personality. Her lips were the kind you could think about, wonder how they would feel against your own. Her eyes were so expressive: a lot of times you tell what she was feeling by looking into them, if only for a moment. But it wasn’t just her looks (although Mando couldn’t imagine someone could look at her and not be shocked by her beauty) but it was her strength and character. She was so strong and quick. She could take a hit and give one that was even stronger. She could stand being teased and had this lopsided smirk that would cross her face when she said something smart or funny.

Din Djarin imagined she was a woman who had been loved by many. 

And he was loved... by no one.

“The job doesn’t really allow for much room for that kind of stuff. Armor doesn’t help either.” He meant to answer plainly, as if the question had no impact on him, but he still noticed the way her eyebrows softened, her head tilting slowly as she processed his words. Din felt a hitch in his breathing as she reached over, her soft hand covering his.

“Din Djarin, you are much more than your job or a suit of armor. You are a good man.”

And he once again felt himself melt into her touch, as well as her reassurances. Din had never had someone do this for him. Sure, the Mandalorians had been there for him when he was a foundling, but even in the end they wanted something from him: to be a Mandalorian like them and to swear by and follow their creed. But this was so different. She didn’t want something from him. She didn’t need him to change the way he was in order for her to support him. 

“What about you?” He asked nervously. He didn’t know why he was even nervous. Maybe because he didn’t want her to think he was prying. Or maybe it was her answer he feared. That she would already have someone who was waiting on her or who she had already given herself over to. And while Din knew he didn’t have any claim on her, that they were only friends who happened to get stuck with each other in this big galaxy, he knew a small part of him didn’t want to hear her say yes. 

“Have I ever been in love?”

Din responded only with a nod of his helmet, followed by a loud sigh leaving her lips.

“No, I don’t think so. I think maybe once I could of been... but it wasn’t the right time for me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Besides, my grandmother always told me love was a waste of time. Suppose I haven’t ever really bothered to find it.”

Din felt bad for feeling relieved at her answer. But, he still did.

“You mention your grandmother a lot. Were you guys close?”

She smiled, as if relieving all the bittersweet memories. It was a smile Din recognized. “Yeah. My mom would of argued we were a little too close. Always said I was just a younger version fo her.”

“Well then she must have been a pain in the ass.” 

She let out a loud laugh at Din’s joke, her smile reaching from ear to ear as her body shook for the laughter. Din enjoyed hearing the sound of laughing. It wasn’t a sound often heard on his ship and hadn’t ever really been present until she came around. Her presence lightened the mood, make the environment brighter than it ever had been before, made the Razor Crest feel more like home than Din had ever felt before. 

“Yeah, she was a pain in the ass. I miss her.”

“Is she-” Din paused, not wanting to ask a question that would hurt her. She was so happy and he never, ever wanted to do anything to tarnish that. He could tell she was scarred enough. She didn’t need him digging in deeper, breaking her apart bit by bit.

She paused, the smile falling off her face, and turned to look at Din. “You know, you can ask...”

“What happened? To your family.” 

“About five, maybe six years ago, Empirical troops raided our house with orders to kill everyone in it. It was just my parents, my grandmother, and I. They wanted my grandmother the most. She wasn’t very subtle about her hatred for the Empire and her dedication to the rebellion. She probably should of shut up a bit more...”

Din felt so much anger build up. This was the same Empire that had wanted his kid. The same Empire who wanted to do Maker knows what to him, tarnish the power he held, and make the child into something he wasn’t. The same Empire that Mando constantly had to run from and who hunted for him and the kid. And now the same Empire who had hurt a person he cared about so deeply. An Empire who had taken his family, and hers.

“They did that just cause your grandmother?” He simultaneously couldn’t believe it and could. 

“That and... well...” She paused, clearly uncomfortable with the subject but continued on, “My family line... there have been Jedi’s in my family in the past. And they were Jedi’s that were also dedicated to the rebellion. So, they figured they would just kill any possible Jedi’s and not risk it.”

__________________________________

You knew the question was coming, just like you knew eventually this conversation would happen. You were getting close to Din, perhaps too close, and you couldn’t keep what had happen to your family a secret forever. And maybe a part of you wanted to talk to him about what happened, because there was no one else on the planet you could tell. 

Because you weren’t supposed to be alive and probably had a price on your head.

All because of who you are.

You heard your mothers words echo in your mind. Never tell someone about yourself. You have to keep it a secret because they will want to kill you. The world isn’t safe for someone like you.

You held your breath as you waited for the question, nervous even though you knew what was coming.

“Are you a... Jedi?”

Never tell someone about yourself.

You finally let out the breath you were holding, trying to steady your shaking hands. Your fingers dug into your thighs and you stared straight ahead, into the galaxy in front of you.

“No.”

[hearts-hunger]

aay’han mar’eyce (bittersweet discovery): chapter four || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

chapter one || chapter two || chapter three

Series Summary: In search of the Jedi you’ve been tasked to find, you and Din wrestle with the bittersweet discovery of your little one’s past and destined future. || Part Three of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: Grogu shows Ahsoka his powers, and Din makes a decision that rocks your little family.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff | Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence, pregnant reader, brief morning sickness

A/N: Hello!!! Bet y’all wondered if I’d ever come back to this series! Of course, I could never abandon Mr. and Mrs. Djarin - I merely needed to let my muse gather her thoughts. I’m very excited to be writing for this series again, and I hope it’s worth the wait!

Kriff, you’d forgotten how uncomfortable it was to sleep on the ground.

Your little one seemed no worse for wear; after a last snuggle in the cradle of your arms, he toddled off of your lap and happily chased a lizard across the ground. 

You and Din indulged in a few minutes of commiseration as you set to making a simple breakfast of portion bread, sharing a few bites with your little one whenever he could be coaxed away from chasing the critters he found. Din sat next to you, lifting the bottom of his helmet to eat; it was too risky to take it off when he wasn’t absolutely assured it was only you and your baby watching. 

“You don’t ever sleep with your helmet on anymore,” you observed. You knew he must have many times while on a hunt, but most nights found him asleep in your bunk with no armor on.

“No, thank the Maker,” he agreed. His morning voice was impossibly deep through his vocoder. “It’s fine to have on during the day, but it’s a little annoying to sleep in. It’s like sleeping with your boots on.”

You stroked your fingers over the shiny beskar; it would be smudged with dust by the time you got back to the Crest, and it would need a good polishing.

“At least your morning voice is even deeper,” you teased.

He chuckled, and the sound was so gravelly that you flushed. 

“You like it, hm?” he asked, knowing full well the effect he had on you. You gave his shoulder a light shove, and he laughed; you drank in the sound of it and the feel of him next to you.

“Ad’ika,” Din called when your baby had wandered a little too far. Grogu responded to the nickname as easily as he had his own name the night before, and you felt a bit of relief and comfort that he was just as familiar with your name for him as his given name.

“Come back over here,” Din said, crooking a finger. “You know better than to wander off.”

With a slightly disgruntled coo, your baby came back closer to you and contented himself with collecting as many little rocks and pebbles as he could fit in his tiny hands. One would tumble out as soon as he found another one, and you smiled at his diligence in collecting them.

Din stood, stretching a little as he did, a soft groan coming through the modulator. "I’m too old for this.”

He offered his hand and helped you to your feet, and you suddenly felt a twinge of morning sickness. 

“I’m too pregnant for this,” you said with a weak laugh.

Din’s whole demeanor changed as he stepped closer and hovered around you. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

You huffed a laugh and closed your eyes. “I’m fine, honey,” you said patiently. You would never have characterized your husband as a nervous man, but this pregnancy had brought out a fair bit of anxiety in him, and he fussed at every little thing.

“Morning sickness?” he asked, offering you his arm to lean on.

You nodded and steadied yourself against him. “It’ll pass.”

“Hey,” he said suddenly. You heard him rifle through something, probably the pocket on his belt. “I have some of those Kismet biscuits you liked on Nevarro. Would that help?”

You opened your eyes to see a slightly crumpled packet of honey-colored cookies in his outstretched hand.

“You... you got more of those?” you asked. Cara and Greef had given you the grand tour of the city, and you’d had morning sickness then too - at Cara’s suggestion, you got Kismet biscuits and nibbled on them until your rocky stomach settled. 

Din shrugged. “I thought they might be good to keep handy. I talked to a nurse droid at the school, and she said there wasn’t much you could do for morning sickness, but maybe these will help.”

You softened. “You talked to a nurse droid for me?”

He cocked his head. “Yeah.” He seemed to think it was a little thing, but it wasn’t a little thing to you. You knew how uneasy it must have made him to talk to a droid, even a nurse droid, but he’d done it for you. He’d also cared enough to pay attention to what helped and what didn’t, and to keep it on hand. You could just imagine your tough Mandalorian husband double-checking everything before you left the Crest - rifle, blaster, vibroblade, cookies for his wife’s morning sickness. You smiled at the thought.

“What?” he asked, amused.

You shook your head. “Nothing.” You took the packet from his outstretched hand and gave him an intentional smile. “Thank you for getting these for me, love.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

“You know what else would make me feel better?” you asked.

You could almost see his smile. “What’s that?”

You tapped your forehead. “A kiss, please.”

He chuckled and obliged you, resting his helm against your head for a moment. The beskar was nice and cool against your skin and helped ease your headache.

“Take it easy for a bit, ok?” he said when he pulled back from you. “I’m going to try and find Ahsoka and ask her what kind of tests she has in mind.”

He sounded a little uneasy at the thought, and you didn’t blame him. You weren’t sure what kinds of tests would be necessary to determine the extent of your son’s powers or previous training, and you resolutely refused to let him do anything that would hurt him.

But, it was early yet, and you were determined to make the best of this. You gave Din’s chest plate a comforting pat before you fished out one of the Kismet biscuits and broke off a piece of it, popping it in your mouth.

“Is that helping at all?” he asked.

Actually, it was - the sharp, bittersweet taste made the morning sickness fade to a dull racket.

“Yeah, it is,” you said. “And they’re good, too. Thank you again.”

He chuckled. “You’re welcome, again.” He touched a few fingers to your cheek in parting as he stepped around you to hunker down to your son’s level. Grogu abandoned his collection of rocks and gave his daddy uppy arms, cooing happily.

“Hi, buddy,” Din said sweetly, and you could hear his smile. He took Grogu in his arms and stood. “Be good for mama, ok? I’ll be back in a little bit with the nice lady, and then you can show her your powers.”

Grogu’s ears perked up, and he babbled a response.

“I know, it’s exciting,” Din said. “You need to be on your best behavior, and mind your manners.”

You smiled. That was your husband’s go-to philosophy for raising kids - before anything else, teach them to be respectful and to mind their manners. You liked it, and the admonition had become part of your parenting vocabulary as soon as Grogu came to be with you.

Your little one gave an affirmative coo, and Din gently rubbed the tip of your baby’s ear between his gloved fingers.

“Okay. Go see mama.” Din handed your baby to you. “Be right back, cyare.”

You and Grogu waved to him as he left; even though Din would be back shortly, your baby always waved bye if someone put so much as two feet of distance between them. Din secretly loved it, and always made a point to wave back whether he was really leaving or not.

You sat on a fallen tree trunk and held your baby in your lap, and he gave a happy babble when you took another cookie from the packet for him. You put the rest in your pocket, hoping you wouldn’t need them later; you were feeling better with the cool breeze on your face. Most of the smog from the city was cleared away this far into the woods, and the forest was a little greener too; you wished you could have seen it in all its glory, before the magistrate had ordered it destroyed.

Grogu looked up at you, giving a soft chirp as he cocked his head. You smiled.

“Hi, my love,” you cooed. “You like your cookie?”

He held up his treat and grinned; you gave an affectionate laugh and brushed your fingers over his ear.

“I love you, Grogu,” you said. “And daddy loves you. And no matter what happens with these tests, your daddy and I are so proud of you.”

You hoped he understood you; if he didn’t understand the words, you hoped the tone of your voice told him how much you loved him. Ashoka wanted to test his powers, to see how much he remembered of his Jedi training - would she be disappointed if he didn’t know enough? You knew your little one was never more upset than when you or Din expressed disappointment when he got into mischief or disobeyed. It was especially noticeable with Din: your husband could scold from sunup to sundown and it wouldn’t really make a difference to your baby, but as soon as Grogu heard that shift from frustrated to disappointed in Din’s voice, he was immediately chastised and apologetic, and wanted assurances that Din loved him. 

Your husband would scoop your little one up and remind him he was loved despite the trouble he’d gotten into. Din had told you that his father had dealt with him the same way when he was a youngling, and he had always been thankful for the compassion that accompanied the chastisement. You never got the chance to meet Din’s Mandalorian father; he died before you knew Din, but Din spoke of him with great affection and respect and often said he would have loved you and the baby. You wished you could have known him and told him how proud you were of the man he’d raised.

You knew Din would be crushed when your baby left. Being a father was everything to him, and he was so good at it - he loved Grogu more than anything, and even among Mandalorians he was known for the lengths he’d gone to in order to keep his child safe. Din would let Grogu go with Ahsoka if that was what was best for him, you knew that without a doubt; he would never stand in the way of what his son needed and deserved. 

And yet, the pain of losing him would be unbearable for both of you, a gap that nothing would be able to fill. Your new baby was a blessing and an incredible joy to both of you already, but you sometimes wondered if that joy would be overshadowed by the grief of losing Grogu, or if you would feel guilty loving your new baby when you missed your first so badly.

You brushed crumbs from Grogu’s shirtfront and touched a few fingers to his cheek.

“You’re gonna do great, ad’ika,” you said, trying to infuse your voice with confidence and excitement even if you felt more like crying. “Just... show Ahsoka what you know. Daddy and I are excited to see what you learned at Jedi school.”

He waved his hand in front of him.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you said with a gentle laugh. “The magic hand thing, just like Uncle Greef said.”

He looked pleased that he’d made you laugh and cooed up at you. He babbled something for a moment before he turned and looked towards the direction of Ahsoka’s camp; you’d heard footsteps too, and you saw the telltale shine of beskar through the dense trees.

“Alright,” you said quietly, holding him close as you stood. “Don’t be nervous, okay?”

He looked up at you with an expression that made you question if that reminder had been more for you or for him, and you kissed his head.

“Fine, I’ll try not to be nervous either.”

You followed Din and Ahsoka as they came through the trees and cut through to a raised portion of the clearing. A verdant carpet of moss covered the ground and crept up the stones, springy against the soles of your boots; Din went first up the rise and offered you a hand up.

Ahsoka turned to you and offered you a smile, genuine if not a little crooked, like she hadn’t had occasion to smile in a long time. You returned it and felt a little more at ease, angling Grogu towards her as she came closer.

“Let’s see what knowledge is lurking inside that little mind,” she said, tapping your baby’s nose. He cooed at her and her smile grew wider; your little one had always had the talent of drawing out smiles from people who’d long since forgotten how it felt.

She gestured to a small, flat stone and stepped a few paces from it. You set Grogu down, giving him a little pat of reassurance, and came to stand beside your husband. Both of you were nervous, jittery; Din hid it better than you did, and took your hand in his own to try and steady you with the gentle pressure.

Ahsoka picked a stone from the ground and held it out to Grogu. You watched in fascination as the stone drifted from her palm towards him, landing in his outstretched paws.

“Now return the stone to me, Grogu,” she said, and you were surprised at how gentle she was. He didn’t make a move to send the stone back, though, and you suppressed the urge to say something.

Your husband couldn’t help it. “He doesn’t understand.”

“He does,” she corrected. She looked back at your little one.

“It’s ok,” she said. “The stone, Grogu.”

You bit your lip and waited for your baby to do as she said, wondering if he was nervous, hoping he wasn’t intimidated. Din tilted his head towards Ahsoka in encouragement.

Grogu let the stone fall from his hands, and he looked so discouraged that you knew he hadn’t done it to spite anyone. You hated trying to perform under pressure and always ended up doing a worse job than you would have if no one had been watching you, and you couldn’t help but think your son was feeling the same way. You were all circled around him, after all, watching in silence for him to do something amazing; the pressure had to be uncomfortable, and you wished there was something you could do to ease it. 

You watched as Ahsoka knelt in front of him, taking his little hand in hers. He didn’t meet her eyes.

“I sense much fear in you,” she said softly. A thread of worry pulled taut in you. What was your little one afraid of?

He did look up at her then, and realization flickered across Ahsoka’s face as they communicated in the way only they could understand. You wished you didn’t feel so jealous.

“He’s hidden his abilities to survive over the years,” Ahsoka said, looking up at you and Din. She stood and paced a few steps, thinking; you offered your little one an encouraging smile, hoping to ease whatever fear he felt.

“Let’s try something else,” she said. “Come over here.”

Din nodded towards Ahsoka again, urging your little one to do as she said; when he didn’t, Din shook his head.

“He’s stubborn,” Din said, and you were a little surprised at the hint of affection and amusement in his voice. While disobedience wasn’t a Mandalorian trait, stubbornness most certainly was, and it seemed your husband walked a fine line when it came to your little one’s unwillingness to comply.

 Your little one was like his dad in a lot of ways; he’d picked up certain traits of Din’s, like the questioning tilt of his head, and was very attuned to Din’s moods in a way he wasn’t with yours. You didn’t mind how close they were - in fact, it was one of the things you liked best, seeing how much Grogu loved his dad and wanted to be like him.

Ahsoka seemed to see the bond between them; she looked from Din to his son, reading the communication of fondness and gentle exasperation from one to the other.

“Not him,” she told Din. “You. I want to see if he’ll listen to you.”

Din seemed to close in on himself, suddenly nervous and hesitant.

“That would be a first,” he said, and you knew him well enough to hear the edge of defensiveness and warning to his voice. Din was open and warm and comfortable with you and your baby, but it was very hard for him to be vulnerable around others, and you knew he felt nervous at the thought of his bond with Grogu being the center of attention.

He did as she said, though, and stepped over to her. Ahsoka gave him a soft smile. 

“I like firsts,” she said. “Good or bad, they’re always memorable.”

You watched as she placed the stone in his hand.

“Now hold the stone out in the palm of your hand,” she said. “Tell him to lift it up.”

Din’s body language spoke of his discomfort, and he shifted his weight onto the other foot.

“Alright, kid,” he said. “Lift the stone.” His tone was oddly detached even considering his nervousness, and you felt wanted to tell Ahsoka this wasn’t how Din talked to him normally, to explain that Din was never this uncomfortable with affection. She seemed to understand, and a touch of sympathy softened her expression.

“Grogu,” she reminded him, knowing he knew his baby’s name but hoping to coax out that affection she’d seen earlier. Din set his shoulders and held the stone out again.

“Grogu,” he said, and your little one’s ears perked up. “Come on, take the stone.”

Again, your baby made no move to take it; the set of Din’s shoulders was taut with frustration and something a little like fear.

“You see?” he said to Ahsoka, tossing the stone to the ground. “I told you, he’s stubborn.”

There was no pride or amusement in his voice that time, and you realized with a wave of sympathy that it was more than just Din’s natural shyness that was making this so hard for him. Din knew as well as you did that if your little one did well enough with these tests, Ahsoka might decide to train him.

“Try to connect with him,” she said, and you knew Din would rather do anything else. To have his connection with his son be the very thing that could bring about their separation - you knew it was painful for him, and he was desperate to control it, somehow, even if that meant closing himself off.

“Din,” you said, before you could stop yourself. He looked over at you, tilting his head in question, undoubtedly studying your face. You searched for something to say to encourage him, to offer him comfort in a way that stayed between the two of you.

“Ne chaabar, cyare,” you said. Your Mando’a was rusty as best, but you knew that phrase from how often he’d said it to you - do not be afraid, beloved. You hoped he knew everything you were trying to tell him: I’m sorry, I love you, I’m worried too. It’s okay.

The set of his shoulders relaxed. He didn’t respond to you verbally, but his body language spoke volumes, as it always did: he looked more steady, less hesitant. He sighed as he looked back to your son, both of them tilting their heads at each other.

Din reached into the pocket of his belt and pulled out the gear shift handle, the thing tiny in his big hands. You softened and felt the strangest sort of ache in your chest. Din knew his little boy, and you knew Grogu would finally do as he was told if it meant getting to play with his dad.

“Grogu,” Din said, much gentler and more playful than he had before. He hunkered down and held the ball between two fingers. “Do you want this?”

Your baby’s expression was completely transformed, his eyes wide with wonder and excitement, his ears perked all the way up. He made grabby hands towards the ball, and you couldn’t help a smile.

“Well, go ahead,” Din encouraged. “That’s right, take it. Come on.”

Grogu looked curiously at Din, perhaps trying to puzzle out why he was able to have it now when he hadn’t been allowed to before.

“You can have it,” Din assured him. “Come on.”

So quickly you almost missed it, your baby used his powers to pull the ball from Din’s hand and catch it in his own.  

“Good job!” Din said, genuine excitement and pride in his voice. “Good job, kid!”

He stood and looked over at you. “You see that?”

You nodded and gave him a glowing smile. You were happy, but Din was ecstatic; he was so proud of his little boy, and Grogu beamed when Din knelt in front of him.

“That’s right,” Din said, taking the ball when Grogu offered it to him. “I knew you could do it. Very good.”

Your baby held onto his dad’s finger and cooed happily at him, and you knew Din was smiling under the helm.

You glanced at Ahsoka; she seemed hesitant, of all things, and you felt a sting of worry.

“He’s formed a strong attachment to you,” she said, her tone unreadable. Then, after a moment, “I cannot train him.”

You and Din spoke at the same time. “What?”

Din stood and approached Ahsoka as you moved to pick your baby up, a thousand emotions running through you at what she’d said. I cannot train him. A bigger part of you than you wanted to admit had been hoping for that very answer.

“Why not?” Din demanded. His tone was tight with frustration and confusion, vastly different from his earlier expression of happiness; Grogu read the change easily and gave a quiet, distressed coo.

“Shh, ad’ika,” you said softly. “Daddy’s not angry with you.”

“You’ve seen what he can do,” Din said to Ahsoka, gesturing to his son. Grogu cuddled closer to you.

“His attachment to you makes him vulnerable to his fears,” Ahsoka said firmly. “His anger.”

Nothing could have been more distinct from the Mandalorian way of life, where family bonds were a source of strength. Though you could tell it had taken Din off guard too, he merely shook his head, unwilling to argue.

“All the more reason to train him,” he insisted.

“No,” Ahsoka said, her expression wide with unease and hurt like a wounded thing. “I’ve seen what such feelings can do to a fully trained Jedi knight. To the best of us.”

Her pain was raw, but your sympathy struggled to overcome the concern her words elicited in you. What feelings? Affection? Love? You balked at the idea of sending your son to train with people who considered a child’s bond with their parent to be dangerous, something that inevitably led to ruin and loss.

“I will not start this child down that path,” she said, and despite everything, you felt it was out of some curious sense of concern for Grogu’s well-being. You wondered if she ever questioned Jedi teaching. “Better to let his abilities fade.”

You wanted to protest, to challenge her supposed responsibility to her vow - didn’t Jedi take care of their own? And yet, you knew nothing of the Jedi way of life; your notions about honor and accountability came from your own upbringing and the Mandalorian Way. She may not be bound to help your little one at all.

Besides, you didn’t want her to train him. You’d known from the moment you set foot on this planet that you didn’t want him taken from you to train, and this new understanding of the Jedi way rooted that even more deeply in your heart.

“I’ve delayed too long,” she said, cutting off any further debate. “I must get back to the village.”

She walked to the edge of the  rise, intending to leave without another word; your baby gave a sad coo as he watched her go. You looked over to your husband, wordlessly asking what you should do.

He looked to Ahsoka. “The Magistrate sent me to kill you.”

Your eyes widened and Ahsoka stilled, his words having the intended effect. He stepped towards her. 

“I didn’t agree to anything,” he said as she turned to face him. “And I’ll help you with your problem, if you see to it that Grogu is properly trained.”

You flushed with surprise and anger.

“Din,” you said sharply. He kept his gaze on her but held a hand out your way, and you couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be placating or silencing. Either way, you had to bite your tongue from yelling every curse you knew in Basic and Mando’a at your husband.

Ahsoka looked from Din to you, undoubtedly reading the tension between you.

“Very well,” she said after a moment, her need for assistance outweighing her apprehension in training your son. “I cannot train him. I will not. But, in exchange for your help, I will try and find someone who will.”

“Thank you,” Din said, and you couldn’t believe how relieved he sounded. “We’ll need to return to my ship. I need supplies, and I’m not taking my wife and child back into that city.”

Any other day you might have thought his protectiveness was endearing, but all you felt at the moment was the distinct, infuriating sense of being completely ignored. It was so unlike Din that you were almost concerned, but anger and incredulity outweighed any other feeling. You would have bet your life you and Din had come to the same conclusion about letting your son train with the Jedi after hearing her refusal and the reason behind it. That you hadn’t - obviously - left you reeling.

No matter. Ahsoka and Din would have to go through you to get Grogu and ship him off to train with the Jedi, and if nothing else brought them pause, surely that would.

Ahsoka nodded. “Lead the way.”

Din looked to you then, his body language clearly hesitant. Good, you thought bitterly. Let him fear the worst about what was going on in your head. You certainly weren’t of any mind to ease his discomfort, not when he’d so blatantly ignored you earlier. You weren’t going to confront him, at least not now - the last thing you wanted was to have a fight with your husband in front of Ahsoka, and both of you made it a point not to argue in front of your baby.

“Let’s go,” you said curtly.

A quiet sigh slipped through his modulator, and you could just imagine the downward pull of his brow as he frowned. He started in the direction of the Crest, and Ahsoka quickly followed.

As you walked, you kept some distance between you and your husband as Ahsoka drew him into a conversation of strategy for their attack on the city. Despite yourself, you missed his steady presence beside you; not even your anger with him could erase your desire to have him near. You held Grogu close and drew in on yourself, bitter and hurt, tuning out most of what they said as your own thoughts gnawed at you.

How could Din want your son to train with her, or with any other Jedi? How could he offer to risk his life to secure it? If your son’s powers came at the cost of his ability and freedom to love, you’d gladly let them fade. You couldn’t believe Din thought otherwise. Even more than your anger with him was your confusion, a desperate need to ask him what in the galaxy he could be thinking. 

Your husband wasn’t a foolish man. He had never been given to thoughtless, reckless decisions, and in your marriage, he had never made a habit of making decisions without asking for your input. That he had now, especially about something as important as your son’s future and his own life, was a stunning blow. You were hurt and dismayed at how disconnected you felt from him; by his own actions, he’d separated himself from you, and you had rarely felt a deeper wound.

So consumed were you with your own thoughts that you didn’t notice Din had stopped walking until you nearly crashed into him. You instinctively put a hand to his back to steady yourself; when he looked back at you, you snatched your hand back like you’d been burned.

“Don’t underestimate the Magistrate either,” Ahsoka was saying. You’d failed to follow the first part of their conversation and couldn’t say you were sorry to have missed it.

Din tore his gaze from you and looked back at Ahsoka. “Who is she? She offered me a staff of pure beskar to kill you.”

Ahsoka crossed her arms over her chest, an almost smug expression crossing her features at the high death-price she warranted. 

“Morgan Elsbeth,” she said. “During the Clone Wars, her people were massacred. She survived and let her anger fuel an industry which helped build the Imperial Starfleet. She plundered worlds, destroying them in the process.”

Din looked around you at the barren forest. “Yeah, it looks like she’s still in business.”

Ahsoka fixed Din with a questioning gaze. “When you were in the city, did you see any prisoners?”

Din nodded. “We saw three villagers strung up just outside the inner gate.”

Despite your own turmoil, you shuddered at the memory and held Grogu closer.

“We must find a way to free them,” Ahsoka said. You knew it had already occurred to your husband that those prisoners needed to be saved; he had probably already planned out how they should do it.

All three of you stood in silence for a moment, thinking about the upcoming attack on the city.

“A Mandalorian and a Jedi?” Din mused. “They’ll never see it coming.”

You resisted the urge to say something childish along the lines of No, how could they? Not even your own wife could have seen it coming. You still had a long way to go before you reached the Crest, and you weren’t keen to make the tension in your party any more difficult to bear than it already was. 

You dutifully trudged along behind them as they started fine-tuning their strategy, the steady rhythm of your walking eventually lulling your baby to sleep. You had to accept Din’s help every so often as the terrain grew unwieldy; as soon as you were steady again, he let you go. Part of you was glad his touch didn’t linger. The other part of you wanted him to keep your hand in his even when you didn’t need his help; maybe then you could have been a way of being close to you, loving you, instead of just being a responsibility he felt obliged to uphold.

You felt as though the forest threatened to swallow you without your husband by your side, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so terribly lonely.

Read chapter five!

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[luminouspoes]

From the drabble list! 87 - You gave me a black eye. + 99 - Be brave, sweetheart. <3

warnings: mentions of past trauma, feminine pronouns 

drabble list | read on ao3

“I don’t know about this,” you venture, gnawing on your bottom lip as Poe bounces on his feet across from you. You’re not sure how he’s always so hyper, he doesn’t even drink nearly the same amount of caf as you do.  

“C’mon, Y/N. It’s just to practice for the mission. You’re not gonna hurt me,” he adds with a note of sincerity when you still look worried. You’d been given your next assignment, an undercover one at a seedy fight club. You were a decent fighter, but Poe insisted you get some extra training to be safe before you left.

“Poe - no offense - but you’re a pilot,” you say even as you settle into a fighting stance. “I actually have hand to hand combat training. You don’t.” 

“Hey, I’ve got one helluva right hook.” Poe retorts, flashing you a confident, excited grin. He really doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into, you muse, but decide to humor him.

“Alright, let’s see what you got, flyboy.”

It takes all of five minutes to get him pinned to the mat, your knee on his lower back with his arm twisted loosely behind him. You blow a loose strand of hair out of your face as you breathe out a laugh, chest heaving from exertion. 

“Okay,” Poe wheezes, tapping his hand on the mat. “Do over.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Poe! She’s already wiped the floor with you once.” Snap shouts from one of the benches. Poe twists his head slightly to fix his best friend with an affronted glare.

“She did not wipe the floor with me -” 

“Oh yes, she did,” Kare cuts in, leaning across Snap to take some offered fruit from Jess. You duck your head to hide a laugh at their shenanigans as you stand up, offering Poe your hand as he rolls over onto his back, a loud sigh falling from his lips - 

And then the next second, he’s sweeping your legs out from underneath you with his own and you hit the floor with a muffled swear. Before you can prop yourself up on your elbows, Poe’s standing over you with a cheeky grin. “Who wiped the floor with whom?” 

You throw him a withering glare. “Oh, it’s on, flyboy.”

He helps you to your feet, and you go through the motions again - and again, and again. What was supposed to just be a simple training exercise has quickly sparked both of your competitive spirits, and you’re both too stubborn to admit defeat.

While you definitely have the advantage of proper training, there’s no denying Poe is a decent fighter. His movements definitely aren't polished, it’s obvious he’s more comfortable using a blaster in a fight, but he’s better than you initially gauged. 

The rest of Black Squadron left the gym a while ago, duty calling them elsewhere on the base, leaving it to just you and Poe. Which you honestly didn’t mind, it was nice having someone to spar with, someone who could keep you on your toes but also make sure you weren’t overdoing it, and the occasional laugh that would rumble out of Poe at a quip you’d thrown at him made your heart do complicated flips that you didn’t want to closely analyze.

 “You okay with this assignment?” Poe asks as you circle each other for what feels like the millionth time. You fix him with a hard stare, feinting right, but he’s gotten a feel for your strategies and quickly blocks the punch. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You grunt, using the momentum of the punch he blocked to twist out of his grasp, sliding backward before he can get any ideas to throw one back. You’re avoiding the rancor in the room, and the quirk of his eyebrows tells you he isn’t going to let you.

So what if your last undercover mission went sideways - real sideways. So what if it cost you a dear friend, so what if it left you in the medbay nursing injuries for a week, so what if you woke up screaming in the middle of the night from - 

Your attacks become a little more forceful as you remember the smell of ozone thick in the air from blaster fire, the horrific thud of your friend’s body as they were too slow to dodge one, how -

Poe says your name in concern and warning, blocking as many of your moves as he can, even as he quickly backpedals across the gym’s floor, but he’s running out of room and that dazed look still hasn’t left your face.

You throw another punch, and it nearly slips through his defense, but he manages to dodge it - just barely. The momentum with which you’d thrown it is enough to send you staggering forward, and Poe uses it as an opportunity to grab your arms and straighten you - simultaneously to keep you from hitting the ground face first and to see if he can snap you out of it.

“Hey,” Poe says, voice rough as he tries to catch his breath, “Y/N. It’s okay, I got you.” 

The reverie breaks and you blink up into his brown eyes, chest stuttering as you realize what happened. “Shit, I’m - I’m sorry, Poe.” 

“It’s okay,” he soothes, running his hands down your arms to help ground you. “You didn’t hurt me.” 

“I could’ve given you a black eye,” you counter, horrified.

“But you didn’t. C’mere,” Poe tugs you off the mat, guiding you to an empty corner. You sit down numbly, bracing your head against the stone wall as you catch your breath, eyes slipping close. You hear Poe moving around the room, and when he returns, he gently pokes you with his foot to get your attention.

You pop one eye open to find him offering you some water, which you take gladly. He sits down next to you and begins to unwrap his hands. Eventually, once his hands are bare again and he’s bunched up the wrapping into a ball and set it aside, he glances over at you worriedly. “You sure you’re up for this mission?” 

When you go rigid, Poe continues quickly, “You’re one of our best fighters, but stuff like this is no joke. I don’t want you to take this mission just so you can - I don’t know, prove you can or something.”

You twist your head to look at him. His dark curls are matted around him in places from sweat and his chest is still heaving, and he looks...oddly more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen him, sitting next to you with only his blue tank top and black sweats on - no uniform, no leather jacket. You can even spy the chain he wears his mother’s wedding ring on easily.

“I don’t know,” you admit softly. “Thinking about going terrifies me, but I can’t just stay grounded forever. If it’s to prove anything, it’s to prove to myself that I can still be the person the Resistance needs me to be, the person I know I am.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Poe sighs and scratches between his eyebrows, thinking. “Do you have to go alone, though?” 

“What, do you want to come with me?”

You mean it as a joke, but Poe looks completely serious when he nods. You gawk at him, “It’s too dangerous, you’re -”

He holds up a finger, “Black Squadron and I have run crazier stunts than walking into some seedy fight club on a backwater planet. Besides…” he ducks his head away from you, clears his throat, “I’d prefer it if I could watch your back, make sure you get home safe.”

You study him for a moment, eyes running along his jawline, the worry in his dark eyes, the way he’s drawn his bottom lip into his mouth nervously. You almost surprise yourself when you say, “Alright.”

Poe blinks, swivels his head towards you. “What?” 

“You can come,” you say with a shrug. “I think today established you can hold your own in a fight if necessary - if necessary,” you reiterate strongly, “I’ll be the one going into the ring, and I’d prefer knowing that my getaway driver happens to be the best pilot in the Resistance.”

Poe grins and your heart does that curious somersault again. “Deal, besides you know what they say: friends don’t let friends go into fight clubs alone.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head with a laugh, “You’re adorable, Dameron, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Once or twice,” Poe confirms and you swat him on the arm. “It’s the hair, I think.”

“I think it’s probably all of you,” you say, feeling emboldened. You lean into him and press a quick kiss to his cheek - or at least, that’s what you intend to do: instead, he turns his head at the last second, and your lips meet his by accident.

You freeze and rear backward like you’ve been electrified - and maybe you have been because your heart is hammering and your lips are tingling - but whatever you’re about to say dies in your throat at the soft, dazed smile on his face. 

You can’t stop the smile from spreading across your face, too.  

“Can I kiss you again?” Poe asks, eyes sweeping down from yours to your lips.

“You wouldn’t have to twist my arm,” you confirm, as he cups your cheek.  

Just before he presses his lips to yours he mumbles, “No, no, you did that to me earlier, remember?”

He captures your laugh with his mouth.

[jango-fettish]

3 - A Salacious B. Crumb vs Boba Fett Story

Summary: Salacious B. Crumb is an enigma. Boba Fett is seemingly unkillable god. So what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? 

Warnings: Canonical Violence, Character Death, OCC Salacious 

Word Count: 2744

A/N: yeah the title is another britney spears song, deal with it. this has not been edited or read over after it was written so enjoy my mistakes (i meant typos and what nots, i know this entire thing could be considered a mistake). i gave up towards the end but whatever

Tagging my mutuals who tolerate my bullshit: @a-dorin @simping-for-fives @nelba @chadillacboseman @porgnugget @cptnbvcks​ @blxwjobsforclones @clonewarslover55​ @djxrxn​ @escapedthesarlacc

Gif is not mine. i got it from here. 

Tatooine was a barren wasteland, with only two outcomes for those unfortunate enough to land on the sandy dunes: a slow death or a quick death. No one ever got to choose which one would happen to them, it just happened. You could be a young child, just walking around the corner and getting caught in an unsuspected dust storm, sand filling every crevice and making home in your lungs. Or you could live for years, your skin and soul withering away under the twin suns, the heat baking you slowly from the inside out until you breathe your final breath. 

Or, for some reason, you could actually get lucky and survive something that should have been your end. In an instant you turn into a god amongst mortals, someone who could say that Tatooine tried her best to end you, but you were just better. That is until the ever-changing dunes decided that today would be the day and become your grave. It was a rare occurrence, even more rare to happen to multiple people in the same day, in the same place. But luck and whatever greater being they believed in was on their side. And they lived. 

Salacious B. Crumb, for all intents and purposes, should have died the moment he became the jester of Jabba the Hutt. The little Kowakian monkey-lizard wasn’t built for the festering, dry heat of Tatooine. What a change from the tropical climate and landscapes of his mother planet. Nonetheless, he adapted and survived. Though there were a few times that he was almost crushed by the weight of his master, or swallowed by the great slug beast for not doing his job. The little shit was tough, tough enough to be able to stare bounty hunters, such as Boba Fett, down and laugh in his face without worry of consequences. 

But Boba Fett was the type to not forgive or forget transgressions, even the same ones. The noxious laugh of Jabba’s most loyal pet seemed to bother everyone besides the Hutt. Each time he arrived back in the dais to get a new job, Boba planned out exactly how he would kill the little creature, each growing more and more violent in nature. In the end, he had three perfectly planned out executions for the little creature. He wouldn’t be able to live out his sick fantasies, at least not when the Kowakian was wrapped snugly in Jabba’s tail, stealing the small morsels of food that broke off of Jabba’s meal. 

Even as he fell into the great stomach of the Sarlacc, Boba could hear the high laugh of Salacious B. Crumb mocking him. It was cut short when there was a great explosion and, while it wasn’t one of the three ways Boba would have killed him, he was glad that at least it was done. But, their destinies were intertwined that day. Both were supposed to die in the swirling sands of the Dune Sea. But the Sea had other plans for them.

Boba Fett sat atop the throne once owned by his employer. How the fates had changed in favor of the Mandalorian, once swallowed the decaying in the bubbling stomach of the Sarlacc, now seated in a position of power no man would dream of having. 

But Boba Fett was no ordinary man. 

***********

As he stared at the bodies flooding the chamber, celebrating the ending of Bib Fortuna’s rule over the once powerful Hutt Empire, Boba felt at ease for the first time in his life. He had his father’s armor back, he completed a quest and earned himself a new powerful ally. However, even with all that, Boba could feel the bubbling of uncertainty in his gut. 

Under the safety of his visor, Boba’s dark eyes watched Fennec Shand, his faithful partner, flirt with a purple skinned Twi’lek woman. Once unsure of trusting an assassin with a reputation such as Fennec’s, who at a moment's notice could easily blind side him and take everything he worked so hard for, Boba was sure he could trust her. He had saved her life after all. No, she wouldn’t be the one to betray him. 

He didn’t have to worry about any supporters of Bib Fortuna. The pale Twi’lek had made many enemies within the five years he was in power, growing greedy and selfish. It helped that Boba’s reputation in the galaxy was well known and feared. He was a god, been to hell and back. Who would dare try to challenge him? 

“F-F-Fett,” a high gravely voice whispered from behind him. It was like a breeze, barely there, but he could hear it. 

Boba sat straighter in the throne and tried to drown out the sounds of laughing and merriment that echoed throughout the room. The helmet could only filter out so much. He wasn’t the same bounty hunter he used to be before the pit. Though he was only in the belly for two days, the Sarlacc did more damage to him than he would like to admit. His leg, which he surprisingly was able to save, burned and ached every step he took. The heavy beskar armor just added to the additional stress. He was in constant pain, unable to fully find a sedative or pill that would dull the pins and needles he felt in his knees. His ever increasing age only added to it. But gods didn’t feel pain, so Boba didn’t either. 

“Fett,” the voice called again from his left. Boba whipped his head to the side, looking in the direct the whisper came. It was coming from deep in the many caves of the palace. The voice probably travelled not that far though to get to him. He seemed to be the only one that could hear it. Part of him wondered if he was imagining things, if the voice was just a hallucination. Maybe it was a new symptom of the pit. 

Great.

Boba slowly stood up, his knees cracking each inch he rose. 

“Leaving the party so soon, Fett?” Fennec Shand asked from the edge of the dias, getting his attention briefly, before he looked back in the direction of the whisper. She held a bottle of bright blue spotchka, her drink of choice. “What’s the rush?” 

“Want to check something out,” he muttered.

“Ah, going after the ghost?” 

“Ghost?” The vocoder crackled his voice. 

“Some of the boys were telling me that they heard laughing in one of the storage rooms. Couldn’t find anything or anyone down there though.”

“Laughing? What kind of laughing?” Boba asked, looking back to Fennec. 

She shrugged, “Beats me. Said it was annoying enough to make them not want to go back in there.” 

Boba’s hand twitched slightly. An annoying laugh. He knew quite a few people who he could easily categorize their laugh as annoying, but none of them from this part of the galaxy. Except one. But he was dead...but then again, so was Boba. 

“Crumb,” Boba growled, grabbing his blaster. 

“Crumb?” Fennec asked to deaf ears as Boba made his way to the hallway entrance. 

The winding halls that led deep into the ground were dimly lit as he made his way deeper into the cave system of the Palace. The walls were glistening, the moisture collecting into little pellets the deeper Boba ventured into the ground. Where had Fennec said the laugh was coming from? One of the storage rooms? 

As if on cue, a guttural laugh resonated in the hall. The sound hit Boba right in the gut, sending goosebumps up his arms. It wasn’t fear, but irritation that coursed through his body. Boba ground his teeth together, stomping down to the one storage room he knew would hold the little monster. For years Boba watched the little shit pick at the food that was given to him or that he stole, going straight for the dried, cured meats. His beak would tear at the muscles, ripping them into shreds before consuming the food with a hearty laugh. 

Boba stood in the doorway of the storage room where the keepers of the Palace kept the dried meats. Different cuts and creatures hung from the ceiling on large hooks, perfectly still. The room had no light, other than the faint glow that flowed through the doorway. Boba’s body shielded most of the light, his shadow disappearing within the room where the light touched. 

“Where are you, you little shit?” Boba growled. He took one step forward, shifting his visor into night vision.

“ooooAHAHHAHAHAHA,” the voice cackled loudly. 

Boba couldn’t see anything, other than hanging meat, as he stepped through the room. His blaster was drawn at the ready, finger secure on the trigger. For years he dreamed a day like this would come. No longer was Jabba around to protect the Kowakian. 

“Come on now, little monkey, how did you survive?” Boba asked, pushing a piece of Bantha thigh out of his way. 

“F-Fett!” the voice called before chuckling darkly. The sound was unsettling. Boba hadn’t known the creature to speak actual words. Was it even possible? The deeper Boba stepped into the meat cellar, the greater his uneasiness grew. 

“Did Fortuna let you sneak your way back in here? If it were me, I’d have put you on the pit roast the moment you showed your fucking face.” 

Silence: something Boba did not like. 

“Show yourself!” he called out.

A chain to his left shook and he heard a scream. He turned, but a second too late and Salacious B. Crumb landed on the Mandalorian’s shoulder, his sharp beak trying to find a soft spot to sink into. The Kowakian’s claws dragged themselves across Boba’s helmet. Salacious was laughing the entire time, the haunting noise drowning out Boba’s curses. Boba gripped the scruff on Salicious’s neck, ripping him off and threw him back into the shadows. Truthfully, Boba knew that he should have strangled the little guy there, but the nauseating laughs irritated him to no end. Boba just needed him away.

Salacious clung to one of the hanging meats, his claws ripping into the tendons. He glared down at Boba, who had fully regained himself after the quick attack. How Salacious wished nothing more than to strike again, but he knew better. He had to bide his time. Boba Fett was good, better than most if not all bounty hunters. The Mandalorian looked up at Salacious, and tilted his head to the side. 

“You always were an ugly little shit,” Boba said. 

It was true, time had not been kind to Salacious. The fires from the explosion took most of his fur, save a few patches on his back. His once oil rich skin was rough and dry, as were his claws and beak. The iron rich meals he received from living in the meat cellar had provided Salacious with enough sustenance to gain weight. He was heftier, larger than Boba remembered. But it was the frenzied look in Salacious’s beady yellow eyes that struck the Mandalorian. 

“Fett!” Salacious cried out, his high voice rattling through the tense air. “Feeds on Fett Crumb will! Gain his power Crumb shall! AHAHAHAHAHHA.” 

Being alone in a dark room had made the Kowakian delirious and wild. 

“Just as Crumb did with the others!” Salacious howled again. 

“Others?” Boba asked. But a quick glance to the side answered his question. In the farthest corner that the light could touch were stacks of bones and mangled bodies of decaying Gamorreans. Boba himself had ousted most of them, not wanting to rely on the pig creatures. 

“You’ve made quite a mess, haven’t you, little monkey?” Boba said, raising his blaster once more. 

“Fett thinks he funny. Funnier than Crumb? Never!” Salacious growled, and jumped to another piece of meat. The chains rattled and moaned under the new strain. 

“You’ve gotten fat,” Boba said. 

Salacious grin was sinister and showed what rotting teeth he had left, “Fortuna got fat! Why not Crumb?” 

“I’ll give you that.” Boba watched as Salacious jumped to another, closer, piece of meat. “Watch it, little monkey.” 

Salacious went quiet and still, his head lurching to the side. His tongue flicked out from his beak, coating the tip in spit. He began making incoherent noises, babbling to himself.

“How are we going to do this?” Boba asked, “Though, to be honest with you, little monkey, I’ve already made up my mind.”

“Crumb told Fett already!” Salacious cried out, “Crumb will eats Fett!” 

“Not a great plan.” Boba took a step forward causing Salacious to hiss. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for a long time.”

Salacious’s body curled back, his eyes flickering to the piece of meat hanging to the left of Boba and Boba himself. After a few seconds, his angered look rested on Boba. He had made his decision. He lunged forward, claws ready to attach themselves into whatever piece of Boba they could. Salacious was fast, but a blaster was faster. 

And with Boba Fett at the end of the blaster, you are sure to lose. 

Salacious howled in pain, falling just before Boba’s boots with a dull thud. Smoke rose from his chest from where the blaster shot landed. He coughed out pathetically, blood spattering onto Boba’s boots, before stilling. Boba counted to three silently and then slowly began to bend down. His knees creaked and groaned with the chains. 

Before he was in a full squat, Salacious’s eyes opened wide and he swatted out at Boba. His claws connect with the beskar of Boba’s chest armor, scratching away the forest green paint in four jagged lines.

“Fuck,” Boba shouted, jumping back. 

“F..F...Fett,” Salacious said weakly, coughing once again. His chest moved erratically before completely stilling. His glossy eyes dulled over and his tongue hung limply out the side of his mouth. 

This time, Boba waited longer than three seconds, and this time, he didn’t bend down to check to see if Salacious was really dead. Boba nudged the limp body with the toe of his boot, making a satisfied noise when the body simply rolled to the other side, blood seeping out from underneath. 

By the time Boba emerged from the depths of the winding cavens, the crowd he had left doubled in size. He found Fennec easily in the mass of bodies, lounging in a large chair with a jug of spotchka, and not only the purple Twi’lek seated on her lap, but a human woman seated next to her, drinking in every word Fennec had to say. Boba approached his partner, the crowd dispersing from his path. One of the perks of being king, though it wasn’t really an issue for him before either.

“Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence. How was your little adventure?” Fennec asked. 

“Need you to do something for me,” Boba said, ignoring her question. He was in no mood for games; he just wanted to fuck off from the world and sleep.  

Fennec smiled charmingly at the human woman, “Hold on a moment sweetheart.” 

“I need you to get some men to go to the meat cellar and clean it up,” Boba began, “Tell them to get rid of everything.”

“We just got a fresh shipment the other day, why do we-”

“It’s spoiled,” Boba interjected. Fennec stared at him, leaning back in the chair. She knew well enough that it wasn’t spoiled; she had been there when the shipment came in and checked it herself. Everything was fresh and top of the line. 

“That’s new.” Fennec said, pointing her jug of spotchka to the four lines on his armor. “What happened there?”

“Fucking monkey,” Boba grumbled. Fennec was about to question what he meant, but Boba held a hand up, silencing any words from her. “Just...just have them clean the damn meat cellar.” 

Fennec nodded, taking a sip of the blue liquid. “Did you find that ghost?” 

Boba laughed darkly, “Oh I found him alright. Fucking took care of it too.” Boba grabbed the jug of spotchka from Fennec, “I’m going to my chambers, I don’t want to be bothered.”

“I was drinking that,” Fennec said. 

But her words drifted into the noise of the crowd, becoming one with the cacophony of laughs and jests and music. But the one thing Boba did not hear was that high pitched Kowakian squeal that chased him down the Sarlacc’s mouth. And he was content with that.

[bloodpacks-archive]

the spark

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Poe doesn’t get nervous. And then he meets her.

Warnings: Ahh normal star wars things??? No one dies?? Idk man it’s just chill you know it’s star wars you guys know the drill

Note: Ah! This is my first time writing poe and I am VERY excited to see how you guys like it!! Feedback is SUPER appreciated with this one! Expect to see a lot more Poe in the future!! And much more Poe and this reader :)) they’re fun to write and I hope you guys love this as much as I did!!

Poe’s mind tended to wander on missions like these. They were gathering intel, heading to the planet Riosa in the Inner Rim. So the ride was peaceful. The old freighter they were on had managed to hold up, and was gliding through hyperspace with relative ease. So they had a few hours to kill, and it was just him, Pava, and her.

She was a new recruit. An old Corona Squadron Lieutenant from the Republic Navy. She was skilled, he’d known it from the moment he saw her test run in her new Resistance-issued X-wing. She knew how to fly, and from what he’d heard, was a damned good leader.

So if he was being honest, he wasn’t entirely sure why she was on this mission. It was last minute, originally only supposed to be him and Pava, but the General had insisted. And even if he was given the option, he could never say no to the General.

So now, they were on an old freighter, Poe simply hoping that it wouldn’t spontaneously give out halfway to their destination.

The hoping was a good distraction.

Because, if he was being completely truthful, she made him nervous. And he wasn’t the type of person to get nervous around anyone or anything. Force, he flew headfirst into the jaws of death almost every time he jumped into an X-wing. He didn’t have the time to be nervous.

But when he’d met her, it was a different story. She’d smiled at him, shook his hand with a lovely delicacy he wasn’t even sure he could describe.

“Commander Dameron,” She’d said, “It’s an honor to be working with you. I heard so much back in the Navy.”

And he wasn’t sure what it was about that moment. Whether it was the way his last name sounded so pretty when it was in her voice, or if it was the way she titled her head, looking up at him through sparkling eyes.

He just couldn’t pinpoint it.

“Commander?” Jess’s voice came from next to him. She was curled in the co-pilot’s chair, knees up to her chest. He’d never know how she could be so comfortable like that. Poe hummed in response, turning his attention over to her.

“What’s got you so quiet?” She asked, but there was a smirk on her face, and he knew she was up to no good.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” He replied. She reached over, lightly hitting his shoulder with a fist.

“C’mon, Poe. It’s kinda obvious.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, hoping she didn’t notice the split-second where his heart dropped.

She always did.

“It’s not like you to fall head-over-heels for a new recruit,” Her voice trailed off, and she glanced over her shoulder to look at the door. “And to be so nervous-“

“Shut it, Pava.”

She put her hands up in surrender, smirk still plastered on her face.

“You got it, Commander.”

It was then when she walked into the cockpit, almost like she could feel them talking about her.

“Hey, Lieutenant,” Pava said, turning around in her chair to look at her. Poe glanced back. He noticed her hair was down, falling around her face. He turned back around, hoping she didn’t see how his gaze lingered for a moment too long.

“Not a lieutenant anymore, Jess,” She replied, and he saw her lean on Pava’s chair in the corner of his eye. He glanced over.

“You two know each other?”

“We were in the same squadron in the Navy, joined around the same time too,” Pava answered.

“About a year after you left, Commander,” Y/n said. Poe raised his eyebrows.

“You’ve done your research.”

“It was all anyone talked about back there,” Pava groaned, “Dameron did this, Dameron did that, Dameron’s out there saving the galaxy.” She paused, smiling up at him for just a moment. “Eventually I had to check and see if they were true.”

He laughed, “How accurate were they?”

“The truth was incredibly underwhelming,” She deadpanned. The cockpit broke into laughter, and Poe heard her laugh. And based on how his heart fluttered, the way his gaze lingered for a second too long on her smile, and how badly he wanted to hear it again, it had an effect on him. And he knew he was done for.

“Any rumors about me when I left?” Pava asked Y/n, turning in her chair to get a better look at her.

“Oh you know, just the usual. Jess must be chasing after Dameron and all that.” She turned, throwing a quick wink Poe’s way, and Jess scoffed, pushing Y/n away from her chair as her laughter burst through the room.

He could’ve sworn his heart stopped.

“Why don’t you grab a seat, we’re about to get out of hyperspace,” Poe said, and he watched as she moved to sit down behind him. He couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of pride that she had moved closer to him.

It’s a bit pathetic.

He brings them out of hyperdrive, and then they’re in front of Riosa. The planet is covered in factories, but with the recent aid from the Republic, they’ve been able to build up their economy, and with the growth of the new cities, came the growth of new First Order sympathizers.

It’s been a bit of a dangerous place ever since. He hopes the mission goes smoothly.

—————

They’re in a bar. Jess is sitting in a booth on her own, keeping her eyes out for anyone suspicious. Poe is next to Y/n, the two of them sitting in a booth on the other side of the bar, waiting for the informant to arrive.

And while they’re waiting, he tries not to notice how she looks. How she pulls her leather jacket closer to herself every time someone new walks into the bar, letting the chilly air from outside in. Her hair is still down, and every time she brings her hand up to push it out of her face he can’t help but feel his heart jump.

He’d ordered a Riosian Mead in the hope that it’d make them look less suspicious, but now it sits between them untouched. Frankly, he’s feeling a bit too jumpy to try and drink it.

“We should probably talk,” Y/n says, “Looks a little weird for the two of us to be sitting in silence.”

Poe hums, and then nods, “So, where’d you grow up?”

“Hosnian Prime, actually. Probably wasn’t the best place for a kid to grow up, but I loved it there.”

He nods again, and then there’s this sudden sadness in her voice.

“I saw a lot, you know? So I joined the Republic Navy and then-“ She pauses. “They didn’t do anything to help.”

“Trust me,” he says, “I get it.”

“What about you?” She asks. “Tell me everything,” She teases, and she lightly kicks his leg under the table. Poe smiles, clearing his throat to cover the way the smile takes over his face.

“I grew up on a small settlement on Yavin 4. Unlike Hosnian Prime, it was an amazing place to grow up-“ She laughed, lightly pushing his shoulder. That odd feeling of pride came back. “My parents were both in the alliance, and I learned to love flying from my mom.”

“That’s so sweet-“

Poe cut her off with a short wave of his hand, his eyes were trained on the door, there was a group of three Devaronian men, each of them with blasters on their hips. They were scanning the bar, looking for something.

“Is that…?” He let his eyes leave the door, and shook his head at her. Her eyes widened. “What’s happening?”

“I have a bad feeling about those guys,” Poe said, and he let himself steal another glance at them. He looked across the bar at Jess, whose eyes were wide. “We need to leave,” He finally answered.

He took a final glance at Y/n. “Act natural, keep talking to me, and don’t look at Jess,” He whispered.

“I know, Poe,” She replied, and so she rose, making her way out of the booth. Poe was quick to follow, still glancing up at the three men every so often.

“Tell me about your parents,” Poe said, his voice was nearing a whisper, hoping to not catch the attention of the men who were now making their way into the bar. He noticed that one of them kept his hand on his blaster. Y/n gave him an odd look, but spoke anyway.

“My dad was a businessman, pretty normal stuff. My mom spent some time as a medic but pretty much just stayed at home after I came along.”

They were nearing the men, Poe noted the top of the First Order insignia on one of their wrists, just barely peaking out from under his sleeve.

“Did you ever consider being a medic?” Poe pulled his eyes away from them, instead turning to Y/n to distract himself.

Turned out she made for a pretty good distractor, too.

“Never really considered it,” She admitted, “It’s always been flying.”

They made it past the men, and they were nearing the door when Poe heard one of them speak.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Poe turned to see one of them, with a green tint to his skin and large horns, with a hand on Jess’s arm.

Force, Jess.

“I was just leaving, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” She replied. Poe’s hand lingered on the blaster on his hip. The man holding Jess glanced at the other two, then his eyes trailed down to Jess’s hip, where her blaster sat.

“What’s a girl like you doing with that?” The man pointed towards the blaster, and Poe could see Jess curse herself for just a moment.

“It’s dangerous out here. Never know when you’ll need it.”

“You know how to use it?” He asked.

“Sure do.” With one swift movement, Jess pulled her arm out of the grasp of the man and pulled out her blaster, pointing it towards the one who grabbed her. At the same moment, Poe and Y/n stepped closer, each pointing their blasters to a different man in the group.

Jess stepped backwards, coming closer to Poe and Y/n.

“So, if you don’t mind,” Jess began, “I’ll be heading out. Hope I didn’t cause any trouble.” Jess spared a look at the two of them, and with that they all rushed out the door, flying past people to make their way to their freighter.

“What about the-“ Y/n started, but Poe cut her off.

“Information doesn’t do us any good if we’re all too dead to get it back.”

They all turned a corner, and finally slowed down to a walking pace, each trying to catch their breath with every step.

“Well, I’d say that was successful,” Jess said. Poe rolled his eyes.

“Force, Pava,” He began, “You really have to cause a scene everywhere we go?”

Jess just shrugged. “It’s my signature move.”

Y/n laughed, and Poe had to stop himself from staring. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or the fact that he’d just seen her with a blaster and for some reason that was very distracting, or that she wasn’t just a new recruit anymore, but someone with history and a family and someone that knew part of his history. But after that, there was something different about her.

He still couldn’t pinpoint it.

“Well,” Poe said, turning to her as they finally reached their freighter, “how was that for a first mission?”

“A bit crazier than the Navy,” She replied earnestly. He smiled, turning to her as they entered the ship.

“Welcome to the Resistance.”

—————

When they returned to D’Qar, it was clear that General Organa was less than impressed with the result of the mission. But she understood, and now they knew the prevalence of First Order sympathizers on Riosa, so the mission wasn’t completely useless.

“Poe,” She’d said at the end of the debriefing, “stay for a moment.”

Poe nodded, watching as Jess and Y/n left. HIs attention then turned back to Leia, who smiled up at him.

“So how’s the new recruit?” She asked.

“She’s skilled, General. Knows her stuff, and very capable during missions. She’s quick to react, and seems to meld well with teams.”

Leia nodded as he spoke. “How do you think she’d do on Black Squadron?”

He felt his heart jump.

“I think she’d excel at her job.”

Leia smiled, putting her arm on his shoulder.

“Then why don’t you go tell her the news, Commander.”

Poe smiled back at Leia, bringing a hand up to cover hers.

“Of course, General.”

Leia laughed as he left the room, yelling something about how he needed to stop the formalities after him.

Poe figured he’d find her the mess hall, so he was quick to head there. His eyes caught Jess’s, and soon enough, he found her as well. She was sitting with the rest of his squadron, animatedly telling some story. Jess would chime in every now and then, waving her hand nonchalantly as she spoke.

He figured she’d fit just fine.

Poe came up behind Snap, leaning onto his shoulders.

“I see you’ve all met the newest member of Black Squadron,” Poe said, and he glanced over at Y/n, giving her a quick wink. And then she was beaming, her smile bright as she looked at Poe.

His heart fluttered.

But it didn’t last for long, because after only seconds, the team was cheering for her. Jess bumped her shoulders with her, Snap high-fived and grabbed her hand, his deep laughter making Poe shake. Karé wrapped her arms around her, and soon enough she’d been congratulated by the entire squadron.

They made eye contact for just another moment.

“Thank you,” She mouthed. Poe smiled, he was glad to have her on the team.

She’d fit right in.

No tag list for Poe yet!! But if you want to be added go ahead and shoot me an ask!!

[wutroows]

taking him home (general hux x reader)

pairing: general hux x reader (romantic) a/n: threepio is your best friend in this, i don’t make the rules. also thinking of an alternative ending where hux stays behind and dies as he did in the movies but i know that just causes pain and suffering and this fandom has had way too much of that so i probably won’t do it unless people really want it. this has almost 3.5k words too so that’s pretty cool, hux is one of my favorite characters and it ruined me when he died so i hope you enjoy this, i really loved writing it 

“chewie..?”

rey’s voice is shaky as she stares up at ren’s star destroyer, which now took over the sky of kijimi. you stand next to finn, who had been visibly tense ever since ren’s destroyer was mentioned moments before. you look between him and poe, and then back at C-3PO, who now had no memory of any of you. the thought did twinge a bit. you really did like threepio, and now, you had to have him relearn everything he’d been through. 

“what about him?” finn asks, without missing a beat. “he’s on ren’s ship,” rey says, “he’s alive.” she turns back to look at the group, a now hopeful smile appearing across her lips. “what? how?” you hear poe say, “he’s alive! he must’ve been on a different transport.” you look between the group of people standing before you, all suddenly looking incredibly happy. “we gotta go get him.” finn concludes, “your friend’s on that sky trash?” zorii says, “guess he is!” poe shrugs. threepio suddenly becomes alive again, his eyes lighting up that familiar golden glow. “might i introduce myself. i am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations, and you are?” 

“okay, that’s gonna be a problem.” 

“threepio, move your metal ass, we’re almost there!” poe pushes past the protocol droid, who sounds offended when he speaks, “how dare you! we’ve only just met!” you roll your eyes and pat the droid on his shoulder, “i promise i’ll give you a nice story-time, later, threepio.” 

“poe!” you hear zorii say. she holds up something you can’t quite recognize from where you stand next to rey and finn, "go help your friend.” she sounds determined, and he shakes his head. “zorii, i don’t think i can take this.” he tries to deny it, pushing her hands away, but she refuses. you hear the roar of a ship from behind you, and as you peek around the corner, you tug at finn’s sleeve, “we need to leave, now.” you tell poe, and you turn and follow after rey. 

poe steps up beside you and you look over at him, “are you nervous?” he asks you after a minute, trying to keep up with rey, who has been setting the pace as you walk towards ochi’s ship, you shrug. “a little. i just want to get chewie out of here and then leave.” you tell him. you knew full well hux would be here. 

you hadn’t told anyone who the spy was. he was the one who told you palpatine was alive, and you relayed that information back to the resistance yourself each time. hux had gifted you a tie fighter to fly back and forth between your rendezvous point and the resistance base. you’d inspected it in and out, making sure the tie hadn’t been tracking your location. he’d promised you multiple times, he’d taken out a few things to make the tie as rogue as it could be, but your comms still worked, so sometimes for entertainment you’d listen to different frequencies and see what you found. hux was the only member of the first order you could say that you liked. he’d given you a first order officer uniform, making sure you wouldn’t be recognized at all by anyone. you could only hope he wouldn’t be involved. you knew he would pull something stupid to get you out of here if he had to. 

“i get it.” poe’s voice cuts you out of your thoughts and the door to ochi’s ship opens, and the group piles in. you silently thanked zorii for the medallion, as you were given the okay to enter ren’s destroyer. “whoever this chewie person is, this is madness!” 3PO says, and you look over at him. you missed his nagging, even if he wasn’t shut off for a while, you knew he’d never be the same again. 

the ship lands in hangar 12, and as soon as the door opens stormtroopers begin to walk up the ramp. finn shoots his blaster and poe follows suit, shooting the two down. the four of you turn back to back, shooting at every stormtrooper that comes in sight. you were definitely known about now. “you three, stay there!” rey says, and you hear threepio say, “happily!” 

“threepio!” you call out his name as you start to turn away, jogging backwards. his head turns upwards as he hears you call his name, “yes, mistress y/n?” you roll your eyes, he would always be the same droid when it came to never dropping formalities, “stay safe, please!” you say firmly, and with that, you turn to your friends. 

“which way?”

“uh, no idea, follow me!”

***

your eyes watch a squadron of stormtroopers pass. their armor is loud, clanking with each step they take. finn peaks his head out after they’re gone, and finally steps out of his hiding space. he turns and moves his hand, letting everyone else know it was okay to come out. the four of you hold your blasters and check down every single hallway, making sure no more members of the first order were in the area. finn leads you down a hallway, and you jump as two stormtroopers, clad in their signature armor, with their blasters pointed at your heads. 

“drop your weapons!” one of them says, and rey steps forwards, waving her hand, “it’s okay that we’re here.” you and poe give each other a look, but turn your attention back to rey and the troopers in front of you. the two of them lower their blasters, “it’s okay that you’re here,” the one who spoke originally says, “it’s good.” 

“you’re relieved that we’re here.”

“thank goodness you’re here.”

“welcome guys.”

“did she do that to us?” you hear poe say and you elbow him in the side, earning a small “ow” before rey speaks again. “we’re looking for a prisoner and his belongings.” 

***

you shot the last camera that was in the hallway, “they said chewie’s this way.” finn says, and as he enters a passcode to get the door to unlock, rey turns around, walking in a different direction. “rey, come on.” finn says from behind you and she turns around, “the dagger is on this ship. we need it.” she says and a confused look appears on poe’s face, “rey, why?” you ask her and she looks into your eyes, “ a feeling. i’ll meet you back at the hangar.” 

“rey, you can’t just-” finn says, but he’s too late, as she’s already gone down a different hallway. rey did a lot of things based off of intuition and feelings. hopefully she was right about needing that dagger, but if you had it, threepio wouldn’t have needed to get his memory wiped. you sighed audibly and poe gave you a pat on your shoulder, “chewie.” poe says as finn had took a few steps as if he were wanting to go after her. he nods, and the three of you go down the door that had just opened. 

ren’s destroyer was practically a maze, but the door to chewie’s cell was easy to find as the troopers rey had mind-tricked had given you exact directions to get there. the door to his cell slid open and you heard his roars as soon as it did. “of course we came for you. chewie.” poe sits his hands on the wookiee’s shoulders for a moment and you gave him a quick hug. 

you were incredibly close to the wookiee. after han’s passing, he needed someone to lean on. he lost luke, recently as well, and now the only person he had left was leia. when the lightning shot out of rey’s fingertips, you thought that he was in there, and you broke down in front of poe. you couldn’t help it. you’d lost too much already. you had been close to han, and luke had told you that he liked you the one time that he met you, saying that he knew you would do great things. you could only wish he was there to see them. 

“yeah, rey’s here, she’s gonna get the dagger.” finn’s voice drags you back to reality, and you uncuff chewie’s paws. the three of you help him stand up.

now it was time to make your way back to the ship.

***

“wrong way!”

“well, there’s not really a right way, is there?” poe retorts and he peeks his head around the door, shooting one of the stormtroopers. you slide out of the door and shoot the remaining ones, sliding one of their blasters back to the currently weaponless chewbacca, who takes out the troopers approaching you from behind. “thanks chewie!” you laugh breathlessly and he roars in response. you missed him. 

the four of you continue making your way down the hallway, jumping over stormtroopers and shooting at any of them who cross your path. “we close?” poe asks, “straight ahead!” 

poe runs into the crossroads of a few hallways, and a blaster shot collides with his arm. “poe!” finn screams, and he slides on his knees, “are you okay?” 

footsteps, and a lot of them. you back up next to them, chewie following suit. 

“nope.” 

***

handcuffs are uncomfortable.

you notice that as you’re manhandled by a group of stormtroopers. they confinscate your blaster and before you know it you’re being dragged down a hallway. your eyes landed on hux, and you silently pleaded with him to let you go. he made eye contact with you before quickly looking away, and you grit your teeth. he’d do something, you knew that. well, not exactly. you were just hoping incredibly hard that he would. 

you’re standing between poe and chewbacca, and you bit on the inside of your lip. hux was standing right there. he was about to watch you be executed. at least you’d die with your friends. “actually, i’d like to do this myself.” hux’s accented voice speaks out, and you feel your heart leap out of your chest. was he really going to save you? you hear a trooper hand him their blaster and you let out a sigh.

“what were you gonna tell rey before?” you roll your eyes hearing poe’s words. the person he was talking to was finn, who had said he wanted to tell rey something while the group was sinking in quicksand on pasaana. he’d brushed it off multiple times and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was talking about. “you still on that?” finn replies. “oh, i’m sorry, is this a bad time?” he says back sarcastically. chewbacca grunts next to you and you mumble out, “i agree. they sound like a married couple.” you whisper to him. 

“yeah, sort of is a bad time, poe.”

“well, 'cause later doesn't really look like an option. if you're gonna let something off your chest, maybe now's not the worst time to...”

the two of them start bickering, and you begin wondering what hux was doing behind you. was he contemplating killing you himself? at much as you hated to admit it, maybe he was. he hadn’t done anything except hold the blaster. 

one. two. three. four. 

your eyes shut and you prepare for impact, thinking you’ll see the bodies of your friends fall forwards and that he saved you for last. you don’t. 

“i’m the spy.” hux says, and you smile widely. he pulled through. you had your doubts, but you know that deep down, hux had morals. 

“what?!”

“you?!”

“y/n!” finn and poe say at the same time, and you look at them. “i promised him i’d tell no one who he was.” he gives you a look of gratitude, “i can at least do that, right?” 

“we don’t have much time.” hux says, looking across the four of you. 

“i knew it!” poe exclaims. if your hands weren’t cuffed, you’d be facepalming. “no, you did not.” finn says and you roll your eyes. you were the only person in the resistance who knew who the spy was. hux said he’d only make face to face deals, and since then, you’d met up with him a lot of times. 

hux comes forwards and uncuffs you first, and you look up at him happily. 

as much as you hate to admit it, he was incredibly pretty. his eyes were a bright blue and his hair a fiery red. he looked focused as he unlocked the handcuffs, and they fall to the floor with a clang. you massage your wrists and he looks at you. “thank you.” he doesn’t say anything, but he gives you a nod. he moves on to the wookiee standing next to you. 

after all four of you are uncuffed, he leads you through the destroyer and back to the hangar. you see threepio, bb8 and the new droid rey found on ochi’s ship coming from the hallway. “bb8, come on!”

“i’ll shut down the impeders. you’ve got seconds.” you clench your jaw and furrow your brow. he had seconds. you knew no one would believe his story that the four of you just escaped. you hated the first order, but they weren’t all dumb. “hux.” you utter. you turn to him and look him straight in the eyes. “there she is, she’s a survivor.” you assume poe’s talking about rey, but your eyes remain firmly on the general standing in front of you.

“blast me in the arm, quick.” 

finn looks confused, “or they’ll know.”

“no!” you exclaim, “they’ll know either way. you can’t stay here. you need to come with us, now. you’ll die if you stay here.” you tell him. he looks over at you, and you know that he realizes that. he’d die if he stays there. he shakes his head, and you become desperate. 

your hands reach out to his face, and you cup his jawline. the tip of your nose is touching his and for once you don’t care if your friends see. you really liked him. “i can’t.” he says. his voice is shaky and his eyes are looking anywhere but your face. “please.” you beg him. you feel your eyes begin to fill with tears. you’d really gotten attached to him. 

you remembered the first time you met him.

“it’s you?” you say as you hop down from your x-wing and onto the landing platform. his hands are behind his back and he’s looking straight at you. you take your helmet off and hold it underneath your arm. “really? i was expecting a stormtrooper, not a general.” you laugh slightly. you see him roll his eyes, but he beckons you to a more secretive part of the platform. “i chose this spot for a reason.” you nod, following after him. 

“you shouldn’t take an x-wing here.”

“well it’s not like we have tie fighters lying around.” you tell him and he makes a mental note to himself. he couldn’t get kylo ren to lose if you were dead. he pulls out a few pieces of paper and he hands them to you. your hands move to open them, but his sharp voice stops you. “not here.” 

“riiiight. sorry.” you apologize, chuckling softly.

“i’ll be on my way then. stay safe, general.” you mock salute, and with that, you’re turned back towards your x-wing and you’re flying away. he keeps his eyes on your ship until he can’t anymore.

“listen to me, hux.” you say to him, “come with us. come with me.” your words hit him hard, and he hates it. he knew he likes you. he remembered the exact moment he realized it.

“you really think i’ll wear this?”

hux holds in his hands an officer uniform. you look up at him and shake your head. “you need to. if i’m caught with you in that outfit you wear now,” you look down at your uniform. it’s bright orange and covered in rebel alliance symbols, “you’ll be captured and taken prisoner, tortured for information by ren.” he tells you and you inhale deeply, but you take the uniform from him and throw it into the x-wing. “fine, but i’m only wearing it here to ease your nerves.” you say sarcastically, nudging him with your elbow.

he rolls his eyes, but he feels his cheeks warm. 

“please.” he finally looks into your eyes, and he notices the fact that you’re crying. hux looks confused, “we need to go, y/n!” poe’s voice says from behind you. “shut up, poe!” your voice is coarse, and the rest of the group looks shocked from your words. you’d never once yelled at any of them. “please, i’m begging you. you’ll die if you stay here and you know that.” 

“i..” he starts. your forehead leans against his own and your eyes are closed. 

you were in love with him.

he sent you different coordinates. 

the spot you met him in was usually the same, but now it was some planet out in the outer rim. the first order was active there, but your officer’s uniform would easily let you slip past stormtroopers. you land your x-wing where your meeting spot was, and there he stood. 

he’s with a tie fighter. 

you stare at him, eyes wide. “did you get that for me?” you ask him, hopping down from your x-wing. he nods. he looks cute. his hair isn’t perfect, some strands falling out of place and resting on his forehead. his eyes are still that same beautiful blue you find yourself staring at way too often. “is this because you care about me? how cute.” you gush playfully, and you see his jaw clench.

“thank you, hux.” you laugh, “just.. don’t mention it.” 

you’re shocked. of course you are. you swore he was a ruthless man, with no empathy or care for others, but this clearly proved otherwise. he managed to get you an x-wing just to fly to your rendevous point and back. “everything the first order would use to track you has been removed.” he reassures you after noticing you opened your mouth.

“did you remove it yourself?”

he adjusts the lapel of his jacket, and he nods. he looks flustered, and it looked adorable. “i couldn’t risk anyone else doing it. i learned how to for this.” his voice is quiet, and his eyes and looking down towards his feet. 

“thank you, really.” 

he doesn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. the blush on his cheeks said everything for you.

he hates seeing you cry for someone like him. “hux, listen to me. okay? just listen.” you mumble out, “i’ve liked you for a long time.” you admit to him, quiet enough to where no one else but the two of you could hear. you see his face flush, and the blush on his cheeks spreads to the tips of his ears and nose. you feel yourself melt at that. he was so beautiful without even trying. 

at this point, the two of you are on your knees on the floor and you’re desperately holding onto him. you couldn’t give up that easily and just let him run off to his death you knew was coming. you didn’t even realize that you sunk to your knees and took him with you until you felt the cold of the floor through your pants and on your legs. 

“a really long time, ever since you gave me that stupid tie fighter to make sure i didn’t die trying to get to you. i was so shocked that you cared so much about some rebel, i was supposed to be someone you hated, but instead you took care of me and.. you didn’t want me dying. i knew that, you don’t have to tell me.” he opens his mouth to respond, but you put your finger over his lips. “i’m not done.” 

“i just.. i don’t want you dying here. i could save you. i could take you home..” you sniffle, and your thumbs are running over his cheeks. “y/n..” he says your name, and you look into his eyes. “please, let me save you, armitage.” 

something in him changes as you say his name. 

“okay. okay, i’ll go.” 

a smile appears across your lips, and you couldn’t help yourself. one of your hands travel to the back of his head, and you lean forwards. his eyes stay open for as long as they could, but as soon as your lips press against his, they’re closed. he melts into your touch, and you stand up off the floor, taking him with you. 

he never wants to let you go. 

“come on, let’s go.” 

he nods. 

your fingers entwine with his.

you’re taking him home. 

[waywardodysseys]

Resigned to Fate - Chapter Nine

Warnings: violence, blood, cussing

Word count: 3.8+k

Author’s note: never written for the Star Wars universe before but with The Mandalorian figured why not; Darksaber plays a role in this story so I apologize now for the ending; final chapter; thank you for reading!

Resigned to Fate Masterlist

You are in the middle of a lesson with the foundlings when Kath runs into the room. You stop and look at her, so do the foundlings. You begin to frown as Kath stands there catching her breath.

“Kath?” Your voice slightly higher than usual.

“Ramee,” Kath gasps for air. “Ramee is here.”

You look down at the foundlings. “Stay here children.”

They all nod as you walk out of the room and into the main area of the bunker. Standing in cuffs in a circle of full armored Mandalorians is your father. He smirks as he sees you, “Y/N. Daughter. I’ve come to see you! And I have come in peace!”

You raise your eyebrows. “How did you even find me?

Ramee shrugs. “Your mind was open when you were wounded on Sundari. I was able to see Endor but nothing else. I came alone.”

“What do you want?” You hiss.

“Forgiveness.”

You turn on your heel.

“It’s about Mando. Your Mando!”

You stop and turn back around, facing him. “Go on.” You stammer out as your heart begins pounding inside of your chest.

“Gideon has him and his crew cornered on Nevarro. They are trapped! Gideon knows who the others are. Greef Karga, Cara Dune. They killed another, an Ugnaught Kuiil.”

“The asset Gideon seeks?”

“Alive, and with Dune, Karga, and Mando.”

You had promised Mando you would stay behind. You would be here when he returned alive, when he returned with the green bean. “How long has Gideon given them?”

“Till nightfall. I used the hyperdrive of my ship to get here as soon as I can.” Ramee spits out.

“And how do I know this isn’t some trap?!”

“I saved you from dying daughter! I didn’t kill your Mando because you deserve happiness, you deserve peace. You deserve love. He told me to leave once he found you in Sundari, and I did.”

“And once Gideon is dead, what then?” You ask.

“Then he’s dead. I will leave you alone, leave Endor alone.” Ramee steps out of the circle towards you. “I was surprised you weren’t with him. I figured he asked you to stay behind because of your injury then I wondered if you had told him…”

“Told him what?” Your mind thinks back to the temple. “Oh my gods! I am not pregnant!”

“You sure about that?” Your father asks simply.

You remembered your father could sense you the night he took you away from your adoptive mother. He had a keen ability to sniff out other Force sensitives. You place your hands on your stomach. There was no way, no fucking way, you were pregnant!

“How much time has passed since you left?” You ground out.

Ramee shrugs. “Maybe an hour or two.”

Silence stretches wide.

Kath approaches you from behind, “you should go.”

“He told me to stay.” You whisper trying to keep your emotions in.

Kath pulls on your arm, turning you around to face her. “Go to Nevarro. Recuse Mando, the kid, his team. Come home.”

You look at the ground then back at her, “what if he’s right? What if I’m pregnant?”

Kath’s voice has a smile as she answers, “then we will find out when you return. The child will have you for a mother, a Mandalorian as his father, me for its aunt, and an enclave for its family.”

She leads you over to the weapons cache, then opens a door next to it. Inside is a fully made beskar metal Mandalorian armored outfit. Kath reaches in and grabs the chest plate. “This will protect you, and the child, if there is one.”

“You’ve been hiding this the whole time?” You ask as she places it over your head.

“Yes. We’ve also been adding to it from time to time.” Kath replies.

The chest plate fits you perfectly – not too tight, not too loose. You wondered if they were making it for you because you know some of the enclave had been calling you Mand’alor since they had arrived.

Kath then snaps into place the long black cape. “Missing one thing.” Kath says as she steps to the weapons cache and opens it. She reaches in and holds out her hand.

You look down at your lightsaber. The one you had been gifted from Ramee when you turned into a young woman at the age of 13, it was the one you had given to Kath to hide away because you didn’t want to use it anymore. “You kept it?”

“Yes. You told me to get rid of it but one day, I knew, one day I knew you’d need it. It’s proof there’s good inside of you, proof you can wield your power for the better.” Kath voices smiles.

You grab the saber and hook it onto your belt.

“You look magnificent Deathblade.” Kath states as she looks you over.

You smile, then turn to face Ramee. “Let’s go.”

Ramee smiles and bows. “Of course.” He then reaches out with his arms. “What about the cuffs?”

“They stay on. For now.”

-------

You set down a Y-wing Starfighter on the outskirts of the city on Nevarro. The visor raises and you turn back towards Ramee, who holds out his hands. You sigh as you unlock the cuffs.

“Your plan?” You ask Ramee.

“To get to Gideon. He does have an E-Web, and a flametrooper.” Ramee says as he hops down. He helps you down as well. “I will stall so you are able to get to them.”

“What if you die?” You ask. Your voice is full of concern.

Ramee smiles and caresses your cheek. “I will die knowing I’ve helped you. I will die knowing I tried to be a father in my last moments like I should have been when you were growing up.”

You had to say the words for his benefit. It could be the last time. “I forgive you. Father.”

Ramee strokes your cheek then lowers his hand. “And I love you. Daughter.”

You turn and watch him leave, walking towards the city.

-------

Mando, Greef, and Cara, along with an IG-11 and the kid are inside the blaster riddled tavern. Trapped and on edge. They needed help; they needed a miracle.

“What now?” Cara half shouts. “No fucking way I am going out there just to be hauled off to a Mind Flayer!”

“Those things aren’t real. They invented them to be wartime propaganda.” Greef says before taking a shot of spotchka.

“They’re real!” Cara exclaims. “I’ve heard enough stories to know they are real.”

“Will you two calm down?” Mando barks, trying to catch his breath. He felt like he could die any second. His mind wondered to you. At least you were safe back on Endor.

The kid coos loudly at his feet as he touches Mando’s boot. He’s looking at Mando with his wide ears and big black eyes.

“I know kid. I probably should have brought her along.” Mando hisses through the pain. In the end, Mando thinks, she should be here. He wants you here, he needs you here. His heart aches to see you one last time.

“Her?” Greef and Cara ask at the same time.

“Wait, did you just understand that thing?” Greef asks.

Mando shakes his head. “No but I feel the kid is asking where our protector is.”

“Mando. Who are you talking about?” Cara asks. She looks at the IG-11, “is he losing it?”

“No. He is fine.” IG-11 responds.

“I was on Endor for a few months with someone I hired to protect us, protect me and the kid.” Mando pauses then continues, “she was a former assassin for the Empire.”

“Who?” Cara asks.

“Lots of those.” Greef remarks at the same time.

“Her name was—”

“Deathblade,” Greef finishes for him as he looks out the oblong window of where they’ve taken refuge. “She’s…she’s supposed to be dead.”

“What?” Cara asks as she gets up and walks towards Greef. “Fucking Deathblade!” Cara turns and looks at Mando, “you hired fucking Deathblade?!”

Mando sighs, “yes.”

“She died on Jakku. Well obviously, she didn’t die on Jakku…” Cara mumbles. “She looks hella badass Mando.”

The kid coos loudly and waddles his way over to the door.

“Kid!” Mando states. “Kid! No!”

Mando struggles to stand but is unable to. He watches the kid exit the tavern and into the courtyard.

The kid walks out into the courtyard of the city. Eyeing you in your beskar metal chest plate and black cape. He watches Gideon walk toward you.

“I see you survived.” Gideon remarks.

“You have no one left except your shadow troopers Gideon. You should leave.” You state.

Gideon looks you over then sees the asset. “I want him Deathblade! You are more than welcome to join us.”

You move and stand in front of the child. “You will never have him.”

Gideon turns and faces the shadow troopers. “Kill her and bring the asset to me.” Gideon walks away towards his TIE fighter leaving you alone in the courtyard with the shadow troopers and the kid.

You glance down behind you, “you should’ve stayed hidden.”

The child looks up at you and coos.

“I can handle them,” you nod towards the troopers. You then point towards the open door, “you help them.”

The child frowns at you as he touches your leg.

“We’ll make it,” you whisper. “I promise.”

The child removes his hand and walks back towards the door.

You watch as a couple troopers step forward, but you raise your hand towards them. They stop walking when they hit an invisible wall. You begin clenching your hand and watch them begin to gasp for air.

Another set of troopers begins walking to you and you hold up your other hand, stopping them with another invisible wall. You hear the blaster fire coming from behind you as a woman and older dark-skinned man walk out the door. They take down the remaining shadow troopers and walk up behind you.

“We need you inside,” Cara pants.

“You need to sneak out of the city with the child.” You say keeping your eyes on Gideon looking at his dead troopers.

“Mando isn’t doing so good Deathblade.” Karga says. “He took a hit pretty bad.”

“I will burn you all out!” Gideon shouts.

You sigh and turn towards the door of the tavern, walking into a disheveled room with skewed about chairs and tables, and a few dead bodies. You see Mando resting up against a block of concrete. The kid is resting his hand on his boot.

“Mando,” you say as you kneel beside him.

“Y/N,” he sighs. He reaches out and touches your cheek. His heart pounds at the sight of you. He’s overcome with love for you. It doesn’t matter you disobeyed his order to stay behind. “You came.”

You cover his hand with yours and smile, “I did.”

“I’m not going to make it.” Din says with a crack in his voice.

“You will. I promise.” You say before getting up.

Greef and Cara are looking at you. IG-11 is standing off to the side.

“The three of you need to take the child and go,” you say as you look at the metal grate. “IG take care of the grate.”

The droid walks over to the grate and begins using a torch to melt the metal away.

You walk over and grab the child, see the bag and hand both to Cara. “Take him and go.”

Cara raises her eyebrows. “I don’t do kids.”

“Today you do.” You retort.

The droid finishes with the grate and walks back over. “I am a nursing droid, I could help the Mandalorian.”

You look the droid over. “You’re a killer.”

“I was. Reprogrammed.” The droid replies as the flametrooper begins blasting fire from his torch into the oblong window of the tavern.

Everyone takes cover as the flames spread through the opening into the room.

“Fine,” you hiss. You look at Cara and Greef, the kid. “Please go. We’ll be behind you.”

Cara and Greef look at one another then back at you. They nod and begin the descent down into the sewers.

You kneel next to Mando, your hands on his helmet. You take it off him and notice the blood over his face. “IG?”

“I have bactas spray.” The droid answers.

“I don’t want him…” Mando says.

“The spray will help Mando.” You whisper. “I have to take care of the flametrooper.” You look at the droid. “You can help him down to the sewers?”

“Yes.” IG states.

“You’ll also make sure they all get out? Alive?”

“Yes.” IG repeats.

Mando grabs your arm. “You aren’t leaving me! Do not sacrifice yourself for me!”

“I have a job to protect the child,” you pause and touch his cheek, “to protect you. You hired me. Remember?”

Mando pulls your head down and brushes your lips softly. “I remember.”

You look into his onyx eyes and in this moment you know, you realize – you love him. “I love you Din,” you whisper as you caress his cheek before standing up and walking back out into the courtyard.

Mando returns his focus back to the IG.

“She is genuine in her feelings,” the droid states.

“I know,” Mando whispers. “I know.”

-------

You hold your hand up, creating a Force field in front of you as you walk through the flames and back out into the courtyard. The flametrooper looks at you and as soon as he pulls the trigger your hand reaches up, pushing the flames back at him. The orange flames consume him as he falls to the black sand he was walking on.

Gideon walks forward, your father behind him. “Last time Y/N. Join us.”

“Never.” You hiss.

“This galaxy should know power like yours. Power like the asset has.” Gideon says as more Stormtroopers make their way into the courtyard. “We can control everything.”

“I will die before I let you have them.”

Gideon raises his blaster towards you and your father sees him do this and runs in front of the blaster as it goes off.

The blaster gets Ramee right in the chest. He grabs his chest as he falls forward then back. “She will destroy you Gideon,” Ramee whispers. “She will. Destroy. You.”

Gideon steps forward and looks down, “we’ll see about that.”

You unhook your lightsaber as Gideon steps over your father, walking towards you. Gideon takes out the Darksaber and turns it on. You turn your lightsaber on, the purple beam humming to life, the hilt slightly vibrating in your hands. You hadn’t held this in years, hadn’t used it in years but you know it’s an extension of you, just like your sword had been.

Gideon approaches you, lifting the Darksaber up. Once he is a couple feet away, he brings it down and you block the blow with your lightsaber. You use the strength you have to lift your lightsaber and swing it back at him. Gideon stumbles back as the beam nearly cuts him across the arm.

You and Gideon begin fighting with your sabers in the courtyard. The hums of the sabers filling your ears as you watch Stormtroopers move out of the way. You notice some walking into the tavern, hoping everyone is out of the city alive. Hoping they are on their way back to the Razor Crest.

You feel the pull of the Darksaber and ignore it. It’s calling to you like it had on Sundari. You mustn’t think of it. You think of the lightsaber in your hand, wield it like you wielded your sword. You watch Gideon grasp the Darksaber tighter in his hands.

“Don’t you dare try to remove it from my grasp!” Gideon shouts.

“I’m not doing anything,” you hiss.

“You should give up Deathblade.”

“Never.” You hiss as you push down on Gideon and the Darksaber.

An explosion off in the distance rattles the ground and catches both you and Gideon off guard. You watch as the ball of fire pushes its way up into the air. Fuck, is all you think. And you don’t see Gideon swinging down the Darksaber towards you cutting through the beskar chest plate you are wearing, burning your flesh with the blade of the Darksaber.

“No!” Ramee shouts as he looks on. “No!”

Gideon sneers as he walks off towards his TIE fighter. It lifts off into the air and towards the explosion. Stormtroopers file out of the courtyard, back to their transport units.

Ramee drags himself to your body. He rests one hand on you as he brings you into his lap. “No. No.” He whispers with tears running down his eyes. “Y/N! Daughter. No.” Ramee sobs as he presses his head against yours. “Gods, no. You have a life to live. You’re so much better than I ever was. I’m sorry.” He rocks you in his arms.

In his mind, Ramee sees the galaxy at peace, the Darksaber back on Mandalore in Sundari. He sees the back of the Mandalorian, wearing no helmet. Ramee sees a young child looking up, at you. The last thing Ramee sees is you – smiling, happy, at peace, and in love.

Ramee opens his eyes as he places his hand over your wound. He knows he’s doing the right thing by giving what’s left of him to you – the last of his Force power to heal you.

-------

Mando finishes placing the rocks over Kuiil’s grave and boards the Razor Crest. He flies the ship towards the city, setting it down on the outskirts of the battle ridden stone and black lava sand city.

He opens the ramp and looks down at the kid, “stay here.”

The kid coos loudly.

“I will get her.” Mando pauses, “stay here.”

The kid seems to pout as it looks down then turns away.

Mando walks down the cargo ramp and into the quiet city. He sees your body lying on the ground and runs over to you. He gathers you in his arms and cradles you against his armor.

“No!” Mando shouts. “Y/N!?”

A gloved hand cups your cheek, runs down your chest.

Mando notices the broken beskar metal, notices the cut and wound on your skin. Mando feels at it. The wound is tender and the blood around it is dry.

“I’m sorry,” Mando cries as he pulls your body close to hers.

Footsteps are heard and Mando pulls his blaster. He sees the Armorer walking towards him.

The Armorer stops and looks down. “She’s there Mando. She’s hanging on. You should take her and leave.”

“She’s dead.”

“She isn’t. You can pull her back to here. Take her and go.”

Mando stands with you in his arms, begins walking towards the Razor Crest.

The Armorer walks ahead of him and stops him. She has a lightsaber in her hand. “She’ll need this. Save it for her.”

Mando looks between the lightsaber and the Armorer. He senses the other Mandalorian knows something about you but pushes it aside. He grabs the lightsaber and nods.

Mando walks aboard the Razor Crest and places you down in the bunk. He then grabs the kid and places him next you. “Watch her.”

The kid coos as Mando closes the cargo ramp, then Mando climbs up to the cockpit. He flies away from Nevarro, setting course for Endor.

Mando returns down to the cargo bay and sits by your side on the bunk. He strokes your cheeks then takes off his helmet.

“Come back to me Y/N,” Din whispers before placing his lips against yours.

-------

You feel light like a feather as you walk through a blinding light. You shield your eyes and once you are through, the light is gone and you are standing alone in the temple on Mandalore. At the altar is standing a Mandalorian, not your Mandalorian though.

Death definitely is a Mandalorian, you think as you walk slowly towards the altar.

You look down at your body. You are dressed in a floor sweeping white gown. You lift the ends up and notice you are barefoot. You notice your arms are bare from clothing, but your shriek-hawk tattoo is vibrant as ever, it seems to glimmer under the blue crystal glass which now has sunrays seeping through it, giving off a kaleidoscope of color.

“Y/N,” you spin around at the sound of your Mandalorian’s voice. No one’s there.

You face the altar and the Mandalorian is now gone. You are alone in the temple, alone in the kaleidoscope of color in the Heavens. You spin around, you feel happy. You feel at peace. You feel free then you feel lips pressing against your mouth and close your eyes. You open them again and your Mando is kissing you. You reach up and run your hand through his hair.

He pulls back and looks at you. He smiles, cupping your cheek. “Y/N.”

“Din,” you whisper.

You look around and realize you are on the Razor Crest. The green bean is on the other side of you, looking between you and Din. You see the signet on Din’s armor. “Mudhorn?”

“The kid helped me defeat one months ago. It was after I ran into you on Kashyyyk.” Din pauses. “The kid and I, a clan of two.” Din smiles, traces your lips. “You make us a clan of three.”

 Two months later

 “All negative,” Kath says as she turns to you.

You are sitting in the med bay of the bunker. Just the two of you.

“Are you okay?” Kath asks with concern.

You nod. You’re unsure to be happy or sad. You aren’t pregnant. “Then why did my father think…,” you mumble out.

“I don’t know Y/N. Maybe he sensed eventually you’d have a child. I don’t know how your Force powers work. You once told me it could vary from one to another.”

You wipe away a few tears. Part of you had been ready, been preparing yourself to hear you were pregnant – mainly because you knew Din would be a wonderful father, you on the other hand would be a nervous wreck, but you and Din would be raising the child together.

“Thanks Kath,” you say before heading out of the med bay.

You walk through the bunker and out into the mild air on Endor. Your Mando is standing watch over the foundlings and the green bean in his full armored uniform and helmet. You approach Din and wrap your arm around him. He looks down at you as he wraps his arms around you. He presses his helmet against your head, “I love you.”

You smile. “I love you too.”

You are happy, at peace. You sear this moment into your memory.

Minutes later Kath comes running from behind you and stands in front of you and Din.

You raise your eyebrows. “What?”

“Gideon,” Kath pants, “Gideon is alive.” 

Tags: @cosmo-bear​, @holyground1996​, @pascalisthepunkest​

[greenygreenland]

Wannabe Chapter 9: Star Wars x Reader

pt 1 pt 8

'ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴛᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ? ꜱᴏᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴘᴀꜱꜱ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴀʀᴍꜱ...' -ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇꜱᴛ, ᴀɴɴɪᴇ ʟᴇɴɴᴏx

(Y/n) stared dumbly at Han. He had already dug his grave by answering a call from a few levels down below, and with each word he sprouted, it got deeper.

"Uh, uh," he stammered, "there was a...weapon's malfunction." Sweat trailed down his forehead. "But, uh, everything's perfectly fine now. We're fine. We're all fine here. Thank you." If Fives were here, (Y/n) would have laughed at Han with him, but he wasn't. And he wouldn't ever because he was dead. The thought kept tugging in her mind like a bird that refused to stop chewing at seeds in a garden. 

It was like he was there yet not at the same time. The empty space at her side said to forget him, but she couldn't. Not after all she and him had been through. Not after the way he died. It wasn't with honour on a battlefield--it was plain murder.

Han sucked his teeth in annoyance. "Uh, how are you?" (Y/n) returned her attention onto the man as he sheepishly smiled. She had never face-palmed so hard in her life. 

"We're sending a squad up right now." 

Han went rigid as a board. "Negative! Uh, negative. We...have a reactor leak here, uh, now. I uh, I mean...uh, give us a few minutes to lock it down." He paused. "Large leak. Very dangerous."

"Who is this? What's your operating number?" 

Han grabbed his blaster and (Y/n) almost lost her cool. He gritted his teeth and shot at the panel like there was no tomorrow. Sparks flew from the mangled scrapes of wires and plastoid as smoke bellowed from the burnt material.

"That was a boring conversation anyway." Han threw the blaster on the ground with a tired sigh. (Y/n) shook her head to bring her thoughts back to the ground. She had to remind herself not to think about her men either, who were probably waiting for her back on Kamink with the younger cadets. 

They were probably sent to another wasteland to rid the planet of Seperatist forces while the cadets trained away in the facilities. Without (Y/n) around, they probably got little breaks. (Y/n) wondered if her Master went out looking for her in the dark streets, or if Anakin had already summoned his men for a searchparty. Maybe word hadn't gotten around that she had been kidnapped, and everyone just thought she was a criminal instead.

"Luke, hurry up!" cried Han. "We're about to have company!" The numbers above the lifts quickly rose, increasing so fast that (Y/n) could barely up with it. She frowned. Since when did the lifts go so fast? And since when did the control panels look so...advanced?

"Get behind me!" shouted Han. With a quick swoop of his arm, he shoved (Y/n) behind him and snatched his blaster off the ground. 

The doors on the lifts swished open. There was no warning from either side, only blaster fire. Some lasers bounced off the walls, into control panels, or onto the camera overlooking above.

(Y/n) never fully realised how lucky she was to be incredibly gifted in the Force until now. If it weren't for her sensitivity, then she swould have long been subject to all the smoke and blaster fire erupting from both sides. Han was a surprisingly good shot and kept her safe from harm, but he had to practically tango and shimmy to avoid getting hit. Chewie, on the other hand, was a wonderful fighter tackled quite a few troopers into the lifts.

(Y/n) wanted to help, but she suddenly couldn't move. She wasn't sure why, but being here, in the middle of a battle between two sides she knew nothing about just felt...

...surreal.

It was like she were in a dream, or nightmare for that matter. Nothing made sense here. It was all so random with the futuristic blasters and technology she hadn't seen before. There were many things that continued to strike her as off, but she just didn't know what. 

Something was wrong here. Very, very wrong.

(Y/n) shook herself out of her stupor. What was she doing just standing there? Han probably needed her help along with Chewie, yet she wasn't moving. This wasn't her. She was (Y/n) Kryze, member of the clan Kryze and house. She was sister to Korkie, and niece to the late Duchess Satine and Bo-Katan. Where was her honour? Her will to stand up for peace? 

Instead of cowering behind Han, she should be fighting, so why couldn't she move? 

"You know what would be great?" shouted Han. "If you could pick up that blaster instead of standin' there like a scared loth cat!" 

(Y/n)'s survival instincts kicked in. This wasn't a walk through the temple, this was a battlefield. If she didn't chose the right move, then the opposing side would.

"Right." she mumbled, digging a hand in her boot. Last time she checked, she stuffed her lightsaber parts in her boots (Fives's idea to keep it concealed). If the troopers were as bad at their job as she assumed, then they wouldn't have done a thorough search. She wrapped her hands around a warm piece of metal and pulled out the screws and other parts she needed. Just where I left them, she thought. The soft hues of the kyber crystal shone brightly through the smoke and (Y/n) almost smiled to herself. 

It was like a beacon in this chaos, a hope that she'd be alright in day's time.

(Y/n) closed her eyes and focused on the parts. From the screws, to the metal rounds that held the thing together, she focused, ignoring the blasts and shouts ringing in her ears.

They weren't important.

The pieces hovered over her hands, twisting and twirling into their respective spots and encasing the kyber crystal in all sorts of shiny metals from across the galaxy. There was a satisfying 'click', signifying that everything had fallen into its correct place. (Y/n) opened her eyes. 

The galaxy tied itself into one again, reeling her into the cold face of reality. The blasts. The troops. The death. The shouts. It was real, all of it. None of it was a dream and none of it was going to just disappear--unless she had something to say about it.

(Y/n) jumped to her feet. She found her center and was sure it would be enough to win. The grip on her lightsaber felt so right, and as she pressed the button, a soft hiss resounded in the detention block. The troops suddenly paused, not out of fear from the glowing green saber in the smoke, but from awe.

That changed as soon as (Y/n) lunged out of the haze. They feared the glowing blade in her hands as she sliced their blasters in half. They feared the girl in robes as she Force-pushed them away like fumes of smoke with a single wave of her hand. (Y/n) knocked the last trooper out with a quick Force-push. 

Maybe she had a bit too much Mandalorian in her because never had she ever felt so alive.

(Y/n) turned towards Han and Chewie with a nod. "More troops will arrive shortly. We must depart while we can." Han opened his mouth to say something, but the words stuck in his throat. "You--old man--laser sword--Kid...? Why didn't you--why didn't you just do that before?!" Chewie howled in agreement, but (Y/n) waved them off and motioned for them to follow her down the hall. "I hope you understand the position you put yourself in. Do you have a back-up plan to get us out of here?"

Chewie growled in reply. 

"No? Alright then. I suppose the vents are a choice, but then Chewie would have trouble fitting in..." (Y/n) stopped in front of the only open cell. "Luke, did you find--?"

"Woah! You're a...?"

"Jedi, yes. Why is that such a surprise? Besides that, do you have a backup plan?" He walked out of the cell and sheepishly pointed his blaster at an incoming group of troopers. Han and Chewie shot at them as Luke fiddled with the trigger. "Uh..." His eyes lit up. "Actually." He pulled out a little stick-commlink-thing. "3-PO! Can you find us a way out of the detention block?" (Y/n) knitted her brows together. 3-PO? As in C-3PO? Padme's droid? Stars, this day just continued to confuse her.

"What? I can't hear you!" cried Luke. "It--It's too loud in here!"

As if to prove his point, Han fired his blaster a good five times in a row. (Y/n) blocked a few blasts, only pausing when a girl in white made her way out of the cell. "Looks like you managed to cut off our only escape route." she grumbled. There was something that struck (Y/n) as off about the girl, besides her snippy attitude.

She resembled Padme so strongly that (Y/n) would have thought it to be her if it weren't for the more laid-back fashion of her dress. It was a fact that Padme hadn't any siblings, so perhaps the princess was a relative of hers? It wouldn't be off the mark considering the girl was a princess. Her stern eye snapped over to (Y/n)'s. She nodded to herself as if she were impressed with (Y/n)'s skill.

"I see the Empire hasn't given up Jedi hunting yet." 

(Y/n) blocked a few blasts and almost tripped over her robed. Empire? Jedi hunting?

"3-P0! We're gonna be toast if you can't find an escape route!" shouted Luke. (Y/n) blinked herself back into focus. She had to keep her mind on the task at hand, not a detail that could wait until later. "All of you!" she exclaimed. "Look for a vent or passage! Anything will do as long as we get out of here!"

The princess snatched Luke's blaster out of his hands. He gave an odd look of frustration. "What are you doing?" She shot at a few troops so accurately that they literally dropped dead on the spot. "Someone has to save our skins!"

She made her way over to (Y/n)'s side and shot at a large vent behind her. (Y/n) fanned a bit of smoke out of her face and glared at the vent with a frown. "Garbage chute?" The gaping hole was barely large enough for a single person to wiggle through, but the princess didn't seem to care. She shot another trooper before climbing through the hole and sliding down the pipes. Chewie made his way over to the vent with a low growl.

"Get in there," Han kicked him, "I don't care what ya smell!" Chewie growled a little at Han. He was about to shake his head, but tripped down the chute with a screech. (Y/n) Force-pushed a group of troops into a wall. "Luke, go!" He sent (Y/n) a quick glance of doubt, but she gently prodded him along. "Hurry!" When he disappeared, she turned to Han. He nodded at her. "You first, darling." (Y/n) deactivated her lightsaber with a curious look in her eyes.

"Darling?"

"Yeah, it's a--doesn't matter, get in there you space wizard!"

(Y/n) wanted to be offended but didn't have the time. She slipped down the chute with a slight yelp. Boy, Chewie was right--it smelled terrible in there. It was like a mix of rotten fruit and milk rolled into one, but ten times worse and covered in old cheese.

(Y/n) landed feet-first into a pile of old scraps and packaging. She squinted as her eyes took their time adjusting to the lighting. She coukd have sworn something brushed her leg, but that could have been her imagination. (Y/n) jumped over to the doorsteps, where Chewie frantically scratched and banged on the door. "Chewie, I can do it." (Y/n) reassured.

There was a loud yell from the chute and Han collapsed into a pile of old fruit peels and paperwork. He didn't even take a good look around him before sarcastically shouting, "The garbage chute was a wonderful idea!"

[angelamoores]

Friends Definitely Don’t Ask Each Other Out

A/N: this one was tough for me to write, and I still don’t love the final product but a special thanks to @rorythevambire and @mychenrymadness for their help talking me out of my funk so I could finish this. I set out to make this a lot less angsty but I was listening to kinda sad music so it turned out like this

Word Count: 2,409

anyway, tagging @kiddangers @ciara-knightly @chenoahchantel @up-the-tube @ginger--binger @cactus-con @charlottepage lmk if you wanna be added/removed

School the day after their midnight escapades to Nacho Ball was a disaster. Not because anything crazy happened, more because Charlotte and Henry could not stop falling asleep. Everywhere. In class, stood up in the hallway, in the janitor’s closet, even on random patches of floor. It had gotten to the point that they both ended up in detention, but to no one’s surprise, they both fell asleep in that too. 

Their extreme tiredness, however, was their only reference to the night before. Neither of them knew how to address their almost kiss, so they just didn’t. Although in actual fact, on the way to work was the only time since then they’d both been conscious enough to discuss it. Not that either of them were ready to bring it up in front of Jasper. 

Instead, they let him take over the conversation, listening to him talking about his crush on the new guy in their class. Every now and then, one of them would catch the other staring at them and they’d share a look, a smile. For a minute, Charlotte let herself picture Henry as not just a best friend, but as a boyfriend. 

Sure, he hadn’t always been the best boyfriend to other girls in the past, but he wasn’t fourteen anymore. He had matured a lot in the last few years, especially due to his job, and it had been a long time since he’d had one of those overly dramatic relationships kids have as an eighth grader before understanding it was never love anyway. Charlotte had never taken part in this experience, deciding to sit out the whole dating thing until she was old enough to have real feelings. And she was beginning to realise that time was now.

These secret glances and heart eyes followed them down into the Man Cave. Only they really weren’t that secret. It was to Jasper. He was so occupied by the text the new boy Lucas had just sent him that he wouldn’t notice if his own hair was on fire. As far as he was concerned, as long as they were talking, all was good. However, Henry and Charlotte were given away by the fact that Ray had eyes. 

He hadn’t seen the two of them this in tune since they were kids. They walked in tune with each other, said the same things at the same time and got flustered every time there was silence, looking at each other’s faces a little too much. It was when Ray saw Henry perched on the back of the round couch, with Charlotte sat below gazing up at him, that he intervened.

“Kid, c’mon. We’re gonna go take the Mancopter out on patrol,” he announced, after deciding this would get less push back from Charlotte than if he tried to fake an emergency somewhere. 

They hadn’t done it in a while, so Henry widened his eyes in concern, trying to figure out if something was wrong. Ray just shook his head with a smile. Henry rolled his eyes, but got up all the same.

When they reached the helicopter, Henry approached the driver’s seat, but was stopped by Ray’s hand on his shoulder. On the way there alone, his sidekick had zoned out approximately four times. And despite being indestructible, he didn’t particularly feel like crash landing that day. 

They didn’t really speak much during take off, despite wearing headsets so the noise from the propellers wouldn’t be an issue. Henry was off in his head, thinking about Charlotte yet again. Things were different now, though he could still turn back. It wasn’t easy as it had been before, with Bianca and Chloe and the other girls he had asked out. His friendship was on the line, and he honestly didn’t know what he’d be without it.

Charlotte called him to make sure he got to work on time every Saturday, she helped him with his homework in a way no one else had ever been able to. She held him when he cried and made sure he slept and drank and basically kept him alive. It wasn’t fair on her, the way he relied on her, the way all the men in her life had grown to depend on her. But she’d let him. And though she complained, she never made him feel like a burden; even when he knew he had been. Henry couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly when. But somewhere along the line, she’d become his favorite person on the whole planet.

And it wasn’t just what she did for him. It was the way she lit up when she was telling him something new and smart she’d learned that day. The way her nose scrunched up when she was concentrating. The faux-innocent smile she’d give him after stealing his food or saying something sarcastic. The nights he’d wake up shaking at the thought of something happening to her because of him, how his heart picked up when he heard her scream for help. 

“I’m scared, Ray.” Henry broke the silence. They’d been circling Swellview for a while now, thinking to themselves.

“What of?” His boss responded. Henry turned to give him a look, he was well aware he hadn’t actually been discreet. Ray sighed. “I know you’re scared to ask Charlotte out, but why?”

Henry let out a breath and leaned back into his seat.

“In case something happens and our friendship is ruined. I don’t think I could do all this without her.” His voice was hesitant, but Ray nodded, letting him know it was okay to go on. “And if- if I did y’know, date her, it puts her in danger. If anyone found out she was dating Kid Danger, she’d be a target. I can’t have people taking out their hatred of me on her, I just can’t.”

Ray thought for a moment, trying to come up with something to say to reassure him. He wasn’t stupid, he knew this life was a hard one, especially for a kid. It was a lonely one too at times. It didn’t matter how many people knew their secret, there were somethings you could only understand by going out there everyday, running after villains and criminals and doing whatever other work the police didn’t feel like doing that day. It was because of this that they shared a bond no one else had. And despite their differences from time to time, it would never go away. 

That was why it was so important to him that Henry wasn’t alone. Settling down had never really worked for him; however it was clear his accomplice was different. Ray had been selfish these last couple of years, yet maybe if he could be of help now, maybe things could change. He could be better.

“Charlotte is a smart girl. If she likes you as much as I think she does, she’s already well aware of what dating a superhero would bring. It’s her decision to make, kid, she’s never liked you telling her what to do.”

As much as he wanted to argue, Henry knew that he was right. Every time he’d tried to protect her from something, she’d just try do it more. It didn’t make him fear for her safety any less. 

“And as for that stuff about your friendship,” Ray continued, regardless of Henry’s continued inner turmoil, “you two have been in each other’s lives far too much for any fight to ever change that. Don’t let fear of breaking up keep you from getting together, it’s hardly like either of you are exactly in the friendship stage anymore anyway.”

Henry nodded, finally allowing himself to actually see this working out. Maybe he had gotten so used to all the good things in his life being able to be taken away at any given moment that he had stopped letting himself want them anymore. It hurt less. But sometimes it took losing things to realise what you’d had in the first place, at least that was how he had felt about his powers.

“Thanks, Ray. That was surprisingly helpful.” Ray feigned hurt, but really he had amazed even himself. It had been too long since the last time he was the adult in their serious conversations. When Henry had become mature enough to handle things himself, everyone who was supposed to be responsible in his life had just stepped back and let him handle everything. 

They didn’t speak much as they landed and walked back down to the Man Cave. Henry has far too concerned with planning out how the fuck he was gonna ask out his best friend. Ray was right about them being past friends now though, because friends definitely don’t ask each other out. 

It had to be big, right? But Charlotte hated stupid extravagance, especially in public. But if he was too casual about it she’d be offended. He knew it had to be perfect, but that was about all he knew.

His thoughts were soon interrupted, when he was greeted by yelling as the tubes came up around them.

“Where the fuck have you guys been?!” Charlotte yelled, dropping her phone from her ear, which he could now see was calling him. Ray opened his mouth to reply but never got the chance. “Some crazy guy came into the store claiming someone gave us something of his to sell and threatened to blow the place apart if we didn’t give it back. Schwoz and Jasper have him trapped upstairs, but they could probably use some help.” 

Ray headed straight for the elevator, drawing a blaster from his belt. Henry moved to follow, but he stopped him.

“Kid, maybe you should stay down here,” Ray muttered, gesturing subtly to Charlotte who was now shaking, on the verge of tears.

Henry nodded, mumbling a ‘good luck’ before slowly approaching his friend. As soon as Ray was gone, she whipped her head around to face him again as if she wasn’t crying. He didn’t get any closer, both remaining on opposite sides of the room.

“Why weren’t you answering your fucking phone?” She asked, trying her damnedest to keep her voice steady. To project anger over her fear.

Because of the events of the night before, he hadn’t had time to charge his phone and it had died earlier that day. However, he couldn’t blame for any of this on her the slightest, so all he said was “it’s dead.” 

A couple of seconds passed in heavy silence before either were willing to say anything. “What happened?”

“I was bored, so I volunteered to do Jasper’s shift upstairs. It was fine until this guy came in, bitching and screaming about how we had something valuable that belonged to him,” She recounted, getting louder and louder with each word until she was shouting again, it was easier to be mad at him. “He told me he had a bomb in his bag and I laughed. I laughed, Henry, and I told him ‘good luck with that’, I’m gonna call Captain Man and Kid Danger.”

“Char-” he started, but she ignored him and kept yelling. 

“I called you right in front of him and you didn’t pick up. I called Ray, no answer. I called you again, but this time when it went to voicemail the guy was the one laughing. He was insane, making stuff up to scare me, I know that now. He didn’t know just how cruel he was being when he told me with such certainty that you weren’t coming, when he implied that he had done something to make sure of it. And I couldn’t reach you, to confirm if you were okay, or even alive.” She spoke the last three words differently, with more emotion behind each letter. 

There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to do all the right things to make her feel better, but the words weren’t coming. He just froze. 

“What the hell were you two even doing up there, Henry? And don’t lie to me.” She was sick of the tip toeing around their feelings, of taking things so slow they were barely moving. She had thought that she had lost him today. None of the little things she had been worrying about going wrong could be as bad as that. 

“We were talking. About you.” She folded her arms and raised her eyebrows. “I LIKE YOU, OKAY, CHARLOTTE?” For some reason, he was the one yelling now. It was out there, no take backs.

“YEAH? WELL MAYBE I LIKE YOU TOO, HENRY.” 

They both strode forwards across the room, crashing their lips together. Or rather their noses. Charlotte knew she had to tilt her head, but she had angled her head a little too far to the right, bumping her nose against his. Henry put a hand on her chin, connecting their lips properly, though they were both still giggling against each other. It was less awkward after they were able to stop pretending they were characters in a romance novel. It was sweet and new and so much better than she imagined. Because this was the real Henry, not her knight in shining armor, but her best friend.

“So, is kissing me as good as in your dreams?” He asked, pulling away with a shit-eating grin and smiling eyes.

She didn’t exactly have much to compare it to. If someone had told her a few years ago that her first kiss would be with Henry Hart she would have laughed in their face. Huh.

“It’s even better, doofus,” she beamed as if the smile was permanently tattooed to her face. She’s had the shittiest day she’d had in a long while, but none of that seemed to matter right now.

“So,” he started scratching the back of his head, only now realising he was still in his Kid Danger suit, “how about a date?”

“Friday?”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up at 6,” he replied, trying to be smooth.

“We both have work that evening so I won’t be at home anyway and you don’t have a car, Hen.”

“Fine, you’ll drive us both out from work at 6?”

“It’s a date.” The words felt foreign coming from her mouth, yet she felt a new wave of excitement. It was crazy really, they hung out together, just the two of them, all the time. But this was on a whole new playing field. She leaned back in to kiss him again when-

“IT’S A DATE?” Jasper screamed.

---

hi! if for whatever reason you’ve stumbled upon this after November 2020, you get the bonus content of the beginning of part 4 I never finished! enjoy! :

“What’s a date?” Charlotte replied too fast, she’d always been a terrible liar. Henry tried to hide his laughter by burying his head in the back of her hair, his arms around her shoulders not exactly selling her denial.

Jasper was far from the most observant person, but it didn’t take a genius to read the room. He’d literally walked in on them about to kiss. He gave her a look, holding eye contact until she cracked.

“Fine! We are going on a date, but I don’t want everyone to know just yet,” she admitted. 

Henry scrunched his nose behind her. “Ray, kinda knows,” he confessed, stepping out from behind her and into her eye line. 

She sighed. “That’s what you two were doing in the mancopter.”

“At least Piper doesn’t know,” Henry offered.

“Well…” she trailed off.

“Okay, is there anyone who doesn’t know about us?” He asked, only partially annoyed. It was kinda sweet that neither of them had been able to shut up about one another.

“What about you guys?” Schwoz questioned, reentering the room with the memory wiper that he had just used on the crazy guy upstairs.

“Oh, just that they’re going on a date,” Jasper replied with a smile, a full five seconds before he slapped his hand over his mouth. 

“Seriously, Jasper,” Charlotte groaned, wishing that any of this surprised her. Honestly, it was a miracle that they had managed to keep their identities a secret.

“You have to admit it’s kinda funny,” Henry laughed. It would’ve been nice to try out the whole dating thing and get settled in their relationship before it was announced to the world, but in the chaos they already lived in, what was a little more.

Jasper wasn’t quite sure how to feel now that he saw the two of them beside each other. He’d had a week to get used to the idea of them dating, but it felt different now that it was less hypothetical. He made the decision there and then that he was going to be happy for them. They had enough going on in their lives than to have to worry about him. He would say something if they left him out too often, not that he thought that was likely to happen. It was still gonna be the three of them against the world, at least that’s what he told himself.

It was getting late and after the day they had and the lack of sleep the night before, they were all pretty ready to go home. The tubes came up closer to his and Charlotte’s houses than Junk n’ Stuff, so Henry made his way over to them, chewing a bubble to turn back into his own clothes as he walked. 

By the time he’d changed and was on the launch pad, he looked out to where Charlotte was stood in front of him looking mildly annoyed. Wondering why she wasn’t stood at the other tube he glanced across to see Jasper stood there waiting, completely oblivious. He smiled, he’d been waiting for an opportunity to do this for a while.

“Char, c’mere,” he mumbled, opening his arms. She obliged, doing a little walk run over to him. Once she was close enough, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him and she looked at him the same way she had when they first kissed.

“Up the tube.”

…

Piper groaned, perched on the end of Henry’s bed as he tried on a ninth outfit. 

“She’s seen you sick and dying, you could literally wear anything!” she yelled to where he was changing in the closet, but he ignored her. It didn’t matter that he’d known Charlotte forever, tonight was their first date and he had to look perfect. He opened the door revealed his latest pairing of clothes that didn’t match. “Not that, though.”

She sighed, finally giving in as walked into his wardrobe. It took her approximately eleven seconds to pick out a top, belt, pants and jacket before wordlessly setting them out on the bed in front of him.

“I hate you, how’d you do that?” 

“I follow Charlotte on Pinterest, she has a board called ‘Outfits That Would Look Good On Henry’, it really wasn’t that hard,” she laughed. 

Henry would ask why she had neglected to tell him about it up until that point if he didn’t already know. He tried to look mad, but he couldn’t fight a smile. He really needed to see that board.

spoiler alert they were then going to try go to a restaurant in a car Charlotte built herself but it breaks down and she tries to fix it whilst he sits on the bonnet and orders food to the car and they sit there and watch the stars together it was gonna be cute but know life happens :/

[chubbyooo]

A Recipe for Disaster: A Blurred Lines Spinoff Chapter 8 - Disaster

Hey all I’m still in writing mode so here’s the end of the spinoff and it’s supercharged Gacen emotions time

Gacen races his way to try and save Nox from the carbonite while Vaylin gives pursuit

Gacen hyperventilated as he looked back on the door that just closed, he had just left Kavaraa out there with that woman, what was he supposed to do now? he was just a guy. He felt like his throat was closing up as he looked down the corridors; he had absolutely no idea where he was going, he held his head trying to quell the dizzy spell he was feeling. 

He closed his eyes and tried and tried to calm down but dread began to overtake him, suddenly he heard a loud crash against the door behind him he hadn’t got long. Kavaraa was pretty powerful but that woman seemed so unhinged, he sprinted down the corner just hoping to find his way to wherever his sister was kept.

He stumbled to a stop at a crossroads unsure of which way to go one way was clear and small and the other was full of skytroopers, Gacen swallowed hard knowing she would more likely be kept with many many guards. Gacen held the necklace for a second and summed up all his courage. 

https://open.spotify.com/track/5A8jUZatix87xG0Zj6HSKG?si=r3O_iOWcSZSAy-bgbCMGvQ

He drew his blaster quickly shooting into the crowd of droids, each shot going straight through the head causing them to crumple to the ground. As long as they didn’t overwhelm him he could do this he could be courageous and heroic maybe he could? Hopefully he could. He sprinted down the corridor throwing an ion grenade to the other end of the corridor where a multitude of skytroopers were gathering, he stumbled out of the way down another corridor as the grenade went off hoping the corridor would lead him somewhere.

He ran to the end of it and was met with a room full to the brim with all sorts of weapons all looking ancient and in some pompous guys eyes “priceless”, Gacen dove behind a case containing some kind of large spear. He began to sneak his way to the end of the room as Skytroopers flooded into the room, he got about halfway before he had to stop to catch his breath.

He was so in over his head he slumped back against a case as he began to hyperventilate, he whispered to himself “I can’t do this… I can’t” but then he thought of everyone who was counting on him, he promised Risha he’d be back he had to do this. 

At that moment he heard a loud crash and a scream echo through the chamber, that woman was looking for him again he had to run now. Gacen looked around the room noticing a large ancient looking siege weapon hanging from the ceiling he smiled... perfect, he flung himself backward sliding across the floor and as he did lined up a shot taking out two of its supports. He quickly jumped up and ran to the door as the skytroopers rained blaster fire in his direction, no time to check if his plan had worked he sprinted out of the room as a blaster bolt caught him in the shoulder.

He screamed out a string of profanities before sliding round a corner he had to work out where he was going, he found a council and tried his best to find an easy access map. It turned out this was an air conditioning terminal but there seemed to be an awful lot of power given to one room and it was close by, surely a carbonite person would need a lot of air stuff right.

Even if he wasn’t an air scientists it was worth a shot he ran towards it as the voice of the woman echoed through the chamber “you can’t hide forever little zabrak, I have your jedi friend and I don’t know if I’ll follow Arcann’s instructions to ‘keep her alive’ if you don’t show yourself” Gacen swallowed hard this was so fucked up how was he supposed to choose. However the woman probably wouldn’t go by her word based on her anger he had more chance following the plan, he spun round the next corner and ran towards the room he suspected contained Nox.

He burst into it and stopped dead as he saw the still frozen form of his little sister Kyradia, her face was racked with anger but as soon as he saw her it was like he was back with her on dathomir. He stood still for a few seconds unsure of what to do. He hadn't seen his sister nearly ten years but he could hear the footsteps approaching. He had to move, he dashed over to a nearby console unsure of what to do. 

He looked over the console and recognised it, being friends with a bounty hunter makes you a little familiar with carbonite freezers,he reached for the buttons but as he was about to hit the switch he felt his hand pulled back and held in place as he pushed to try and press the button. 

 No no no no no he felt himself lifted off the ground by the neck as the venomous voice spoke from behind him “I don’t think so zabrak” Gacen began to hyperventilate no no no he’d failed he was so close he maybe could’ve made things right. He was turned around to see the woman standing there snarl on her face with Kavaraa unconscious in her grip “we still need your precious outlander and I am not going to let you take it from us”

Gacen struggled in the grip as he felt tears begin to streak down his face “please no please you don’t understand I have to save her” she almost seemed to revel in his pleading her smile only broadening “s-she’s my little sister she doesn’t deserve this it’s n- not her f-fault” for a second Gacen thought he saw a break in the snarl but then seconds later it returned as her grip tightened on Gacen

She laughed “you’re pathetic you know that, you can’t save her we’re long past that, maybe you should’ve done it when you had the chance” Gacen was surprised she kinda had a point “to think you got this far to ‘avoid martyrs’ if it were up to me you’d both already be dead” Gacen looked from her to Kavaraa what did that mean “but then again breaking the republic is much more fun than conquering it” Gacen struggled in her grip trying desperately to reach out to his sister but he’d never been gifted that way. 

He felt her grip tighten and his vision began to fade to black…

later…

Gacen woke from that reoccurring nightmare, a day he’d replayed every day in his mind since it had happened, he’d gotten so close to saving Kyradia but really they had never been close at all. It had all been a plot to eliminate the republic and empire heroes to break their spirit and they’d fallen right into it, he looked around the bare cell he had been in for some amount of time. It felt like it’d been years but he couldn’t tell anymore he hadn’t seen a person since that day and it was starting to get to him, he had no idea where Ash and Kavaraa were or if they were even alive.

But he was more worried about the two women he’d let down, once again he’d let down his sister and failed to make things right but what was so much worse than that was he failed Risha. She was probably furious at him; he'd broken his promise and left her alone, he knew he was going to mess up sooner or later he’d messed up every relationship he’d had in his life. 

Still he missed it and her, she deserved an explanation so he was going to give it to her whether she ever saw it or not…

https://open.spotify.com/track/652zwAiP1Wdy39NY8DSMu5?si=Lhqqub2eRo-ADoXJOCnA9g

Dear Risha…

First of all you were right and I was wrong, I got captured like a dumbass and I broke my promise feel free to lord that over me til the end of time, I'm so sorry I’m such an idiot and should’ve listened to you. The truth is this happens to everyone I get close to, they fall for my facade of charm and think they know me but eventually the same thing happens I end up hurting them and then they truly know me. I knew I only would have so long before I hurt you too, I really hoped we’d have a few more years but it was fun while it lasted right?

But that’s not what this is for I said I was going to explain why I had to go to you and I will because you deserve at least that.

When I was young I lived in a small tribal village with my mother and my sister Kyradia, when we were very young my mom died so it was up to me to look after my sis. I did my best but I was still a child too so messed up a lot, every now and again though some of the other more powerful tribes would come by and they would demand a child with potential. I never knew what that meant but when it happened I had always kept Kyradia hidden as she’d always shown ‘potential’ whatever that means. But she was getting older and I hoped she could be responsible for herself so I let her look after herself a bit more, but then they came again and they were extremely thorough on wanting the best, I don’t know where they found her but clearly she wasn’t hidden enough. 

I had left her on her own and before I even knew they were there they had taken her, I immediately set out to try and free her but before I could she had freed herself, come back and somehow started defending the town.

She was different though it was very clear she was tougher and crueler she wasn’t the whimsical little sister I’d known, she’d never wanted to lead but suddenly she was in charge of the village regardless of her ideas.  If I’d just been there that day none of this would’ve happened I messed up and I hurt her irreversibly

After that our village and many in the area were attacked by slavers, my sister tried to fend them off but they were much more advanced than we ever were. They took the whole village and me and my sis were separated, from there you know the rest. I stole a ship, crashed it into an orbital station and stowed away on our ship classic pirates life stuff, it wasn’t until recently I realised Nox was Kyradia and when I did I just didn’t know what to do. I already had you guys and I didn’t want to jeopardise that but as Nox she had just become crueler and crueler I felt like I was responsible for all the hurt.

I guess I figured if I went to save her I could cross out all the damage I’d done, I wasn’t strong enough to keep her from the sisters and I wasn’t strong enough to save her from slavers, maybe I was a fool to think I was strong enough to save her from this. I’m just a weak guy who runs as fast as I can to avoid looking at all the people I’ve hurt and I’m really sorry I added you to that list Rish. 

I will always love you and I’m sorry if you can’t forgive me

Your stupid Dumbass 

Gacen…

[renaroo]

Some Times (Time and Time Again) (1/8)

Disclaimer: Booster Gold, Blue Beetle, and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics.  Warnings: Canon shaken not stirred, Heavy canon references to Booster Gold (2009-2011) and Blue Beetle (2016-2018) Pairings: Boostle Rating: T Synopsis: Booster Gold and the rest of the Time Masters are still straightening up things in the wake of the most recent universal Rebirth. But Rip Hunter is still missing in the aftermath, leaving Booster in charge with Skeets, Michelle, and Rani. But there’s a distraction for Booster, one he can’t keep himself from ignoring. 

Ted Kord, miraculously, is still alive. And that makes everything more complicated than Michael could have ever imagined. 

A/N: I’ve been toying around with this idea for what feels like forever, at least since the Rebirth books got launched over at DC, and I finally got time to really sit down and work it out. I’m really excited for this fic and hope it’s decent enough for some of you out there!

Blue Beetle

Life without an assistant, as it turns out, is shockingly compressed on time.

Jaime doesn’t need much help on his progress as the Blue Beetle, but so long as he is the Blue Beetle, Ted has no interest in slacking on the kid’s training. Assistant or no assistant.

With his laptop balancing precariously on his knee, and himself balancing precariously on the sloping hood of the Beetle, Ted is attempting to keep track of company stocks, a slack chat with members of his board, an incoming tech report from some computer analyst he hired out of Jaime’s high school last week, and not waste too much of his bagel in the process.

Despite the distractions, however, Ted’s real concentration is still on Jaime’s blaster as it destroys thousands of dollars and hundreds of man hours of equipment in the simulation fight.

It’s what Ted built it for, but still…

“Seriously, Mister Kord, I have to go meet my mom in, like, fifteen minutes,” Jaime shouts out over the sounds of debris dinging against the lab’s metal floors. He’s not even looking in Ted’s direction as he wastes another AI dummy that is gunning for him.

Feeling himself sliding a bit, Ted kicks back against the Beetle some to get back on his perch, his computer bobbing with the jarring, bagel bits flying. He wonders if an assistant would have helped with the bagel parts. And then he plays back the memory of Jaime’s highly pitched complaints.

“Hey, hey! How many times do I have to tell you, it’s not Mister Kord, kid, it’s Ted,” he argues on the important part.

Jaime’s suit unites his hand blasters into a single canon and blasts through more expensive equipment. He then looks over his shoulder and squints his large, buggy yellow eyes at Ted. “Maybe you should stop calling me kid then, Ted! Also, you’re missing the part where I’m warning you about a very angry Missus Reyes.”

Ted answers an email by holding the remains of his bagel between his teeth. Then he tilts his head back and swallows what he can, choking a bit, and accidentally sending a string of keyboard smashes to his company’s board of executives in response to a question about why so much money is being poured into Extraneous Funding. Bits of extraneous funded superhero training material flies toward Ted and the Beetle and if Ted didn’t know any better, he’d think Jaime was aiming in spite.

“Watch it, Jaime! I just buffed out the last dent in the Bug,” Ted warns, using his not-free-but-freer hand to rub the glistening hood to his side.

There’s a keening noise coming from the scarab on Jaime’s back that is only matched in annoyance by the groaning that Jaime’s doing on top of it. “Mister Kord!”

“Ted!”

“Ted! My mom! Ten minutes!”

Stock prices do dip, there’s another email update from this needy El Paso kid-slash-computer-genius, the board is up in arms at the insufficient response, Ted feels his stomach churning either in response to the million nasty things happening or to his bagel. And it all culminates in a tremor through his lower spine.

Despite or because of everything happening, Ted slips more from his spot, his body shifting and sliding right off the nose of the Bug. He, and all of his things, hit the floor in a clatter that manages to get Jaime to turn away from his training simulation entirely.

“Whoa! Ted, are you okay?” he asks just before getting hit by a blaster from behind.

“See! Never let your guard down!” Ted manages to yell before rolling over onto his back and laying in his mess of a lab and mess of a life. “Not even for your great and mighty mentor.”

He continues to lie on the floor, noting mentally that it’s surprisingly comfortable given that everything exploding in the lab eventually ends up there. It’s only when his vision is obscured by Jaime — no longer in his suit — staring down at him that he centers himself at least enough to be responsible for the teenager that he’s totally responsible for.

“Are you okay, Mister Kord?” Jaime asks, brows knitted in a little bit more genuine concern than what he usually offers Ted.

“I thought about it,” Ted answers with a harrowing breath. He releases the breath and melts into the floor a bit more. “And no. But who, at thirty-six, can truthfully say yes to that question.”

Jaime looks at him like he has three heads.

“Talk to me again in twenty years and we’ll laugh about it,” Ted promises him. “Get out of here, I don’t need a scary-angry Missus Reyes and you deserve a break. What’d’ya say?”

“Okay cool,” Jaime says, immediately walking away.

“You cold offer to help me up!” Ted yells after him.

“Do you want up?” Jaime asks from the doorway.

Ted stares at the ceiling and considers it. “Get out of here kid, I need to find a new assistant.”

“See you later, Mister Kord,” Jaime calls, closing the door behind himself and the last laugh.

“Kids,” Ted huffs to himself. “I need an assistant my age. No. Ten years younger. So I can watch the hope and youthful naivety die. That should sustain me. Think like a corporate CEO. Socioipathy. Hating kittens and… breathable oxygen or something.”

There’s a long silence in the lab, just Ted with himself and his thoughts. And when those turn scary he finally manages to get himself up, gather his things, and to start working on the next project.

Finding his new personal assistant.

There has been a stack of portfolios on his desk for a while, now, a few days at least. And he should be going through them for review but he hasn’t.

They all look the same on paper. Even the one written in German.

There isn’t enough time, and he’s only getting shorter on time the longer he goes without a personal assistant who is literally a speedster.

Time’s a funny thing that way.

Ted finds ways to waste more time without fully committing to any project or any responsibility in a way that matters before giving up in defeat and burying his head into the paperwork on his desk. There aren’t as many pings from his computers and he could probably rewire some of the broken lab equipment sooner than later, but he’s not really doing anything by the time his bagel fullness has subsided into the ache of needing a lunch break.

Which, on a normal day, is when Ted can finally get a hold of everything and pick a direction. He doesn’t really get the opportunity, though.

His head is still on the desk when an unfamiliar, radiant light picks up somewhere in the center of the lab, sending out a subtle heat that dies down with the light itself.

It hasn’t been that long since lizard people attacked so it doesn’t automatically raise Ted’s hackles the way it probably should, but it does at least get him to look up from his desk and see that the light was from some sort of transportation used to enter his lab.

And the one who used the transportation was none other than his best-friend-then-gone, and oddly out of touch, for years.

Booster Gold stares at him from the center of the room, his goggles resting up on his hairline rather than on his nose, letting Ted see the way Booster’s eyebrows ruffle together. They then raise in almost shock as he continues staring Ted’s way.

Ted blinks a few times. “Mikey?”

There’s a deep breath from Booster before he even blinks. Then he shakes his head, as if trying to parse reality, before finally looking at Ted again. “Beetle!” he blurts out, like it’s something he hasn’t gotten to shout in years.

Which, who knows, maybe he hasn’t.

“Did you just teleport into my office-slash-laboratory?” Ted tries to figure out.

“Of course I did!” Booster shouts again, laughing forcefully. He almost seems hoarse already.

“That’s… weird. Since when could you teleport?” Ted continues to question. “Also why? And. Uh. Hello. Been a while.”

“It has been. It’s been… way too long,” Booster continues, seeming breathless. “Wow. Okay. Cool.”

He seems so incredibly happy and relieved and just all these other emotions that Booster doesn’t wear comfortably.

And Ted, well, he’s growing impatient the more the confusion lingers.

“Yeah, it’s like the last time I saw you was in a car commercial,” Ted says flatly.

“Ha, yeah,” Booster replies without any weight to it.

“Probably because it was,” Ted leans in.

That, at least, seems to bring down the thousand watt smile to something closer to a nine hundred. “Oh.”

The air becomes stale unbelievably quickly.

“Yeah,” is all Ted can manage to say.

Booster continues to stare at him, some of the disbelief finally fading into mild concern. Which, Ted kind of hates because only Booster could make him feel like the bad guy for pointing out the truth.

Well, maybe other people, like a well paid assistant someday in the near future.

“Did we leave off on bad terms?” Booster asks, obviously fishing.

“I don’t know,” Ted answers honestly. “Did we?”

With that, Booster’s brows furrow again and he tilts his chin down, running his hand through the back of his hair nervously. “Hell, I don’t know. I.. There’s been a lot, y’know. Just. A lot. And… I didn’t know I could… if you…”

There is something to Booster’s words and actions that feels disconnected. He’s holding back a lot, which is weird. Because it’s Booster.

But the sentiment, well, Ted knows it all too well.

“Yeah, I get it. Me, too,” Ted huffs. “I guess… I mean. There’s not a whole lot to hang out about when, well, I’m retired and you’re… not? I guess. I don’t know where you even live anymore.”

“I can’t… really retire from the current gig,” Booster announces, again with that veiled subject. But he’s quick to change topic. “And there’s every reason to hang out with you. In fact, I’m glad you’re retired. Fuck, man, you better be retired and…” He stops himself short, pinches the bridge between his eyes, and then comes back to focus. “I came to ask if you… if you wanna get some drinks?”

“You teleported into my office-slash-laboratory to ask if we could get drinks before noon on a Tuesday?” Ted asks incredulously.

Booster blinks, looks around the mess of a lab, and then looks at Ted again. “Uh. Yeah?”

Ted considers it only for a second before sighing and coming to his feet. “Okay, fine, you’ve convinced me.”

“Wow, that took… no work whatsoever,” Booster says in vacant surprise.

“It’s been a hell of a morning and I want to figure out what’s different with you,” Ted announces. “I mean, again, last time I saw you was a car commercial—“

“Did I look good in it?” Booster asks almost mindlessly, his gaze a thousand yards past Ted at the time.

“No, the whole thing was on your bad side. You know. Where your chin looks bad,” Ted responds sarcastically, looking Booster over. “Seriously, what’s up?”

“Just drinks,” Booster promises, holding up his hands.

Ted squints at him. “Drinks and… mole people? Time eating octopus? A heist for J’onn’s Chocos?”

“Do you really think so little of me?” Booster asks, actually looking at Ted again. He seems… strangely earnest about it all. In a raw, painful kind of way.

Ted leans back, worried. “Uh. Did someone die?”

“No,” Booster laughs. Only, it’s not just a laugh, it’s an uproarious joyful kind of noise from the back of Booster’s throat. “Isn’t that the greatest thing you’ve ever heard? Isn’t that the best news I’ve ever given you? No one’s… Everyone’s… Wow. I sound like I’ve lost my mind.”

Booster walks past Ted and all but collapses into Ted’s desk chair, crumbling like a fallen tower, until his head has fallen between his knees.

Ted is stunned. And worried. Mostly stunned.

“Jesus, Michael,” Ted manages to get out as he approaches his friend. He looks around his desk, grabbing for the menus he knows are somewhere among the rubbish. “We’ll just order and have something delivered here for lunch. How’s that sound?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Booster continues hoarsely. “That sounds… Yeah, that’s an amazing idea, Teddy.”

At the sound of his old nickname, Ted has to pause looking through low sodium options and instead really looks at his friend. He’s pale and has bags under his eyes. There’s a certain unkempt nature to his hair and it’s sticking up behind his ears like it hasn’t been trimmed in a while. He’s clean shaven, but there’s the dusting of five o’clock shadow on his left cheek from an uneven shave.

It’s the worst Michael has looked to his knowledge. At least short of any life-or-death situations.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Ted not so much as asks as he demands.

“A lot,” Booster answers.

That’s not good enough and it explains nothing. And normally Ted wouldn’t think twice about saying as much. But for the moment, in that uniquely personal and miserably resigned way, Ted gives a gentler “Okay” instead.

When the air grows stale again, Ted tries a different approach.

“Is there anything you can tell me?”

Booster smiles just enough that his dimples make themselves known. “You’ll never have any idea how happy I am to see you again, Ted.”

Despite his confusion and concern, Ted can’t help the no-doubt dorky smile that comes to his face. “Right back at you,” he says, and it’s so truthful it hangs heavy in his voice. He offers up, in a mousy way, his fist. “Blue and Gold?”

There’s a brittle honesty to the expression of relief and appreciation in Booster’s face as he takes his own fist and bumps his knuckles against Ted’s. “Blue and Gold,” he says back almost reverently.

For a moment, Ted wonders how this is going to end, if it will be too soon or too long. He’s just strangely concerned and glad all at once that it exists at all.

So, of course, predictably, it ends too soon.

There’s a flash in the center of the laboratory, just like before, only this time both Ted and Michael are looking in its direction before it’s even over.

Booster manages to voice his surprise before Ted even has the chance.

“Skeets?” Booster’s voice strains.

“Michael, you’re needed for…” Skeets’ synthesized voice hesitates, if such a thing is possible for an AI, and the shiny robotic body shifts into Ted’s direction for a moment. “Hello, Blue Beetle.”

“Hey, I have a secret identity,” Ted jokes, waving to his Blue Beetle themed tee and the Bug.

Skeets, ever the comedic one, does not even acknowledge the detectable sarcasm in Ted’s voice before turning back to Booster. “Sir, you have an… appointment. With Rani.”

Ted can’t help his eyebrow raising and he looks toward Booster for clarification. He’s never heard the name Rani before, at least that he can think of. And he definitely hasn’t heard the name in connection to Booster.

But there is immediate recognition in Booster’s eyes. His body tenses up and he seems immediately more put together than he has appeared since teleporting right back into Ted’s life. He doesn’t even seem to realize that Ted is looking directly at him.

“Is she okay? I mean, does it have to be right now or…” Booster trails off, looking to Ted.

“I have been sent after you, Michael,” Skeets deadpans.

“Can’t you reschedule?” Ted asks, a little put off by all of this rather sudden and unexpected developments.

“It’s not that kind of date,” Booster says, getting to his feet and then flinching at his own words. “It’s… not a date at all it’s…” He seems uncomfortable in his own skin for a moment, scratching at his chin. “You…uh… I guess we should catch up. Soon. Like, really soon. You don’t know Rani? Really? Damn. I mean…”

“No,” Ted says flatly, crossing his arms as he sits back on his desk. “I guess we should catch up soon. Like over a lunch or something.”

“Okay, great,” Booster says, walking forward.

“I’d say pop in any time, but that seems to be the assumption—“ Ted begins to snark, but he’s cut off almost immediately by the tight embrace of Booster. It’s so tight it nearly knocks the air out of him.

Booster’s been working out since they last got into shenanigans together, it feels like he’s cutting off Ted’s circulation almost just through the hug. It’s warm, though, and it feels like the sort of emotional explosion that Ted would expect after years. Without the random teleportations and promises of lunch left thus far unfulfilled.

After a moment of the hug, Ted is finally able to gather himself enough to hug back, too, patting Booster’s shoulder as he does so.

“I miss you, too, buddy,” Ted says.

“It won’t be long, I’ll… I can promise that,” Booster says, finally letting go, holding Ted’s shoulders at arms length. “There’s just… some really hard stuff to explain going on right now.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ted jokes as Booster lets him go. “It’s… uh. Well it’s good to see you again. And will be again. Soon. Ish? Right?”

“Definitely,” Booster promises, getting close to where Skeets is in the center of the lab. “I’m… It’s great to see you again, Ted.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ted responds, waving just as the flash of light from before happens again, disappearing along with his best friend and his best friend’s robot from the future.

He remains where he is, leaned back on his desk, and tilts his head to the side.

“So how do I explain any of this in my log today,” he wonders out loud. After a long moment, he shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. “Blue and Gold Nonsense it is then.”